#do you want to know the non-lodge's reactions too?

[bangtan-bish]

YANDERE! BTS Reaction: They kill you by accident

⚠️WARNING: Once again, gays, gals, and non-binary pals, read the title. There will be mentions of murder-suicide, abuse, and violence as well as other mature and disturbing themes. So if you happen to squeamish, don't read this fiction pleases! Happy reading! And love ya!! HAPPY DELATED VALENTINE'S DAY!!❤❤❤

|| HYUNG LINE ||

K I M S E O K J I N

"Why would you do that?!" you screamed at him loudly, crying over the corpse of your friend. "She tried to warn me about you," you choked out through the steady stream of hot tears. Jin just stood over you, covered in her blood. The sight made you want to smack that smug grin right off his face, and before you knew he was trying desperately to appease you. "Sweetheart, she's not your friend, okay? I'm the only person who truly cares about your safety and wellbeing, not her." He cooed, caressing your cheek gently. "Leave me alone, bastard." He frowns at your words, then, he starts smiling again like he never heard what you said.

He grabbed hold of your face, pulling you closer to him, "You will respect me, got it?" you pull away. This time, his smile falls and doesn't come back again. Before, you were always so easy to tame, always respectful and polite, the thought of even associating that filthy word with him never even crossed your mind. She changed that though, didn't she. The thought of your "friend" daring to taint your innocence caused him to kick her corpse from your hands. Once again, he grabbed hold of your face, this time the still warm metal of his gun is pressed hard against your lower jaw. You try to snatch away again and without thinking he fires the gun, lodging a bullet into your skull. Your body falls to the floor.

BANG!

"Shit, {___}? {___}, get up...please?"

He hates how weak he sounds, begging for you to get up and talk to him. He wants to scream so bad, but he can't find the strength and the lump in his throat feels too big. He knows you're dead, he just doesn't want to believe that he was the one who did it. He planned on the both of you being with each other forever but he ruined that. Part of him wants to blame you for trying to leave him, but he can't. That's when the ideas hits him like a ton of bricks.

He's going to join you on the other side.

He has to, he doesn't want to live down here on earth if you aren't here. The world was so dull and lifeless to him before, he can't imagine what going back to that would be like. It's painful. He'd much rather be able to see you happy and not be able to get to you than not at all. He presses the gun up against his chin, in the exact same way he'd shot you, slowly he closed his eyes after staring down at your body for a few more minutes.

"I didn't mean it, baby..."

BANG!

M I N Y O O N G I

"I have very simple rules for you, sweetheart. I just don't understand what's so hard about doing what I ask of you." He murmured from above you as you hesitated at the door. His footsteps started to come closer, making your anxiety peak, you knew if he caught you that you'd be in some serious trouble. 'Run, dumbass!' You mentally berated yourself, trying to push your body forward and out of your captor's grasp. Just when you had encouraged yourself enough to run he grabbed hold of you.

"Let go, I don't want to stay here!" You cry out loudly, desperately trying to pull away from him. You looked like a child who's father was trying to take them home from the park, he scoffed. "I'm doing you a favor, okay, I'm keeping you safe. Here, with me." You still tried pulling away, flailing you arm to loosen his grip. The more you moved about, to get away the more annoyed he became, part of you knew that, but you could care less. If you just went with him willing he'd just take you back and punish you cruelly, maybe even lock up you in that stupidly dark basement. Right now, you'd much rather risk him punishing you for fighting back rather than just for escaping.

You fought against him for a solid two minutes before your hope started to deplete before your eyes. Hot tears began streaming down your face and the dark cement of the bridge. The lights of cars passing by catching them and making them light up on your face. "Let's go back, now." Yoongi pulled you up from your knees roughly, and you did the only thing you could think to do, you kicked him. Your foot made impact with his knee, causing him to stumble a bit and lose his footing. He scowled and struck you across the face, you landed flat on your butt. The forces sends you tumbling off the bridge and into the Han River below.

SPLASH!

The instant you hit the water, remorse washes over him. He allows his emotions to get the better of him and control his actions. And it costs you both your life. He always knew that somehow, it would haunt him in a way. He doesn't even hesitate to climb onto the railing, gazing upon the city for the last time. He knew exactly what he had to do. Then, taking in one last deep breath, he lets himself fall I to the water below.

"Please, darling, don't leave me behind..."

SPLASH!

J U N G H O S E O K

"You will obey me, you don't have a choice, baby..." He yelled holding the gun to your mother's skull. Beside her, your father lay dead on the floor as she cried out at his corpse. "Please, leave my family alone, I'm begging you!" Your mother screamed through her sobs. "Shut the hell up! I'm not talking to you." You sat there in terror watching as he pressed the gun against her head harder. "Don't you want this to end, baby? You know that you have the power to make it all go away, just do as I tell you." He sneered.

Your mom shook her head, "Don't listen to him, sweetie. I'm going to be okay," you started to sob harder. He had you trapped, trying to force you to make a decision of risking your life or your parents'. But your father was long dead. If heaven existed, you knew he'd be there for sure. He was a good and caring husband, unlike Hoseok was to you. "I'm talking to you!" He called, snapping you out of your daze. "Make your decision...now." He cocked the hammer to the gun, you felt your breath hitch in your chest. "It's going to be okay, sweetie, don't think of me, please. I need you to stay alive." You felt your heart pang in your chest.

The pain you felt was indescribable and you found yourself unable to think or even speak. And after a few minutes your heard Hoseok suck on his teeth. "Fine, I'm making the decision for you."

BANG! BANG!

"Eomma! No God, please don't leave me, please!" He chuckled from above you. "You would have never made the decision yourself, consider it a favor." You scowl at him. "You stupid son-of-a-bitch!" The sorrow you felt seconds before dissipated at his remark. You lounged forward at him causing the gun in his hand to go flying somewhere in the room. While he was still on the ground you began to punch him in the face over and over again until he knocked you off by smashing a vase against your head.

CRASH!

Your body went limp and fell to the floor. A few minutes later, his adrenaline high was gone it dawned on him what he'd just done. He fought so viciously for you to be with him forever and then ruined that same chance with hands he'd fought for it with.

"{___}, hey, get up..."

His voice sounded hoarse and weak and the eccentric light he usually held in his eyes began to fade already. There was no response at all. He sat there in the silence before he finally urged himself to stand, looking at the mess he'd made all for you. The bright white walls were marred with streaks of blood from the gunshots he fired. Coffee table overturned. He had really raised hell itself, he scanned the room for his lost weapon. And when he finally did he walked towards it. Cocking the hammer for the finally time, he pressed it against the underside of his jaw.

"I hope you'll forgive me for this...I love you."

BANG!

K I M N A M J O O N

Your friend had heard a knock on the door, and desperately you tried to beg her to not to open the door. "It's probably one of my other friends calm down, they said they were coming over." She reasoned, but it didn't calm your nerves. You weren't supposed to be there by Namjoon's rule, hell you weren't supposed to be out at all. You let her convince you to come and hide out at her place until you could find a safer place to stay. The knocking was persistent, becoming more and more frequent by the second, until the door finally gave way.

Namjoon's eyes flared with rage when he saw you there in her house. Your friend quickly stepped between the two of you, sensing your fear flaring up inside of you. "Move." He'd told her, the venom in his voice sending a chill down your spine. You knew you were in for it when the two of you got home. So to at least lessen the blow on your friend you place your hand on her shoulder, "I'm just going to leave, okay? I'll be fine." You flashed her a weak smile, that gave away your unease about leaving with him. But before anymore protest and mind-changing could occur he dragged you out of the apartment by your wrists. "I'm sorry," You mumbled as he took you towards his car.

He opened the door for you as usual, which you didn't expect and you sat down. When he got in, he slammed the car door and started the engine. His silence made you nervous. You'd rather him yell at you than for him to stay silent, because if he was yelling you at least knew where his head was. The drive was suffocating. Neither of you spoke a word, and he was driving faster than usual. The car screeched to a stop in the driveway, and he got out and opened your side of the car. And when you got into the house he treated you like normal.

He opened and closed the door for you locking behind you, he helped you with your coat, took of your shoes and everything. And he did it a gently and with such care, it would've fooled other girls into thinking believing he wasn't mad. You went upstairs and showered and when you came out he told you to sit down.

As soon as you did, he struck your cheek. You had to bite the inside of you cheek to prevent yourself from screaming outloud. This continued and he got more and more violent until you stilled in your seat, falling onto the floor. At first, he believed you to be unconscious but after hours of you just laying there he realized what exactly he'd done. He felt the guilt begin to nag at him. He tried to ignore the feelings, bury them away in hopes that he'd perhaps forget you and your relationship with him. But as the days passed he got more and more irritable without you there. Until, he couldn't bear it anymore and decided life without you wasn't worth living. He took four different bottles of pills and closed his eyes for the last time.

"I love you baby..."

A/N: By request of a reader, the gifs have been removed from both this post and the maknae post. Please respect my decision and the reader's feelings and opinions, thank you!

[ceebit]

hey cece!! hope you're having a great week so far 😘

i was wondering if you could write something for jacob (ik he's your boy but hear me out -) and him being reader's first kiss. this is a huge insecurity of mine as someone who never had any romantic experience and i just need some jacob fluff for the moment.

thank you so much 💖

cobie. the man that u are. he still makes my hands shake so i sincerely apologize if this is not as sweet as i swear i intended it to be…

“are you nervous?”

he’s so close. white t-shirt, grey sweats, and hair mussed by the absentminded pull of fingers. his gaze is kind, non-judgmental. always is, with him.

you think you could lie. you think you could get away with a firm no, heavy on the tip of your tongue, ready to put away assumptions that tighten and squeeze in your chest like a second heart… but the idea fades within the time it takes him to look over your features once.

“it’s okay.” it should be unfair the way those two words from anyone other than him would have made the embarrassment heighten tenfold, spell broken as your body shifts away tensed. but it’s him, and he knows you. “i’d be nervous too.”

“i’m not.” his brows quirk upwards at that, so you quickly add, “not when it’s you.”

you want to capture the little smile that tugs at the corner of his lips. minute, but it makes your heart stutter and the skin under his palms grow hot and your fingers twitch from where they’re placed firmly in your lap.

“yeah?” his thumbs brush gentle circles over your cheeks. “not when it’s me.”

he’s silent for a moment’s pause, and it’s then do you realize he’s put the ball in your court—gaze soft but not expectant in the slightest. you know that if you really didn’t want to, he wouldn’t. you wouldn’t be made to feel inadequate, and he’d let you approach him at your own pace.

and yet.

“can you..” you resist the urge to sink your teeth into your lower lip, to fidget with sleeve-covered fingers, to squirm. the words are lodged in your throat still. his presence only heightens the more.

“can i?”

“kiss me,” you hear your voice ask. your chest constricts once more with barely suppressed nerves. “kiss me.”

the first press of his lips against yours is soft, tentative despite the loud roar of your heart beating in your ears. his hands smooth comforting circles against your cheeks still, and when you relax, shoulders easing downwards, you’re rewarded with a faint hum that washes over your skin like a warm blanket.

it’s easy to get lost, like this. swept up in his arms, his touch, and you briefly wonder if you’ve been cast under a spell. your eyes flutter shut, falling further and further into the serenity of the moment—until he pulls away.

your first reaction is to frown, brows furrowed. you try to lean in again but he shifts back even further, and something akin to petty frustration builds and builds and, “why’d you stop?”

“you only asked for a kiss.” one hand leaves to reach down and squeeze yours, “you weren’t specific.”

you know he wants you to ask. this is for you after all, and you find your stubbornness won’t get him any closer to where you want him to be.

“kiss me,” you murmur once more, and shiver when his lips brush just barely against your skin. “again. please.”

back home ⟡ the archive ⟡ join my taglist ⟡ last post

[withacapitalp]

Fic authors self rec! When you get this, reply with your favorite five fics that you've written, then pass on to at least five other writers. Let’s spread the self-love!

Daisies (Steddie)

Summary: He hacked out a few more harsh sounding noises, before he spat into his open palm, taking a relieved breath as whatever was lodged in his throat came out. Eddie would���ve been relieved too, confused, but okay now that Steve was safe. And then he saw what was in Steve’s hand. A daisy. Steve had just coughed up a fucking daisy. And, judging by the completely blasé expression he had on his face as he looked down at it, this wasn’t the first time. When Steve wakes up choking on flowers, Eddie thinks that it might be the end. It turns out to be just the beginning.

I love Daisies so much and the response it got was wayyyy more than I ever could have expected!!! A hanahaki AU that it's a little non-traditional and one of my all time faves I've written!!!

2. Princess (Steddie, Steve and Chrissy)

Summary: “You knew Chrissy” Eddie managed to force out, feeling like he was about to vomit. Steve nodded, still looking at the picture. Chrissy’s little face was overtaken by an absolutely enormous grin, and her right hand was tightly grabbing onto Steve’s free left one.  “Who do you think gave her her title?” He asked rhetorically, side-eyeing Eddie to gauge his reaction. When Eddie didn’t give one, Steve sighed, stepping away, “People always get that story wrong though,” Eddie wakes up alone, goes downstairs, and finds out things he wasn't ready to know.

Princesssssssss. Augh this one hurts me every time I read it and it's one of my top favorite head canons. I think Steve and Chrissy being cousins hits a chord that is just so perfect? This little detail that doesn't actually exist to anyone but me is so canon to me now haha!

3. Let Me Just Hold You Now (Stolen)

Summary: Steve has a routine for nights like this. A routine for the times when his world gets flipped on its axis. Just four simple steps to keep his body alive while his mind tries to sort through whatever fucked up thing he just went through.  Steve has a Routine.  Robin breaks that Routine.

THIS FIC MAN. I really hit a stride with Stolen fics that just felt soooooo yeah I really loved writing this one and that's not something I can usually say!!

4. The Day After (Stoncy)

Summary: The morning after Steve helps to destroy a demon who had been trying to kill Jonathan Byers and Nancy Wheeler, he goes to school. He didn't want to go. He didn't know why he did it. He just went. It was startling to see how the rest of the world didn't change.

Agh! So I have a mixed relationship with this series but I had to include a stoncy fic in this list and this one was the one that really started it all. The first long fic I finished, the first one I felt really proud of, and the fic that really started my love for stranger things. Yeah I'm proud of this one.

5. How to Rehabilitate a Jock (Eventual Steddie WIP)

Summary: After their breakup, Steve found that being around Nancy and Jonathan was pretty much unbearable. His old friends wouldn't even look at him, and there was only so much time he could spend with the kids before he started feeling kind of pathetic. All in all, he was a pretty lonely person now. But was he really lonely enough to consider joining Hellfire club? And were they really willing to accept having a dethroned king in their party? A post season two AU where Steve becomes a part of hellfire club

This one is probably my baby and will be for at least the rest of the year. She gives me so much trouble but I love her so gosh darn much!!!!! Anyways it's my most popular story, it feels like a lot of pressure, but I love it.

TY MORGAN THIS WAS SO MUCH FUN AND IM SO GRATEFUL YOU SENT THISSSS

[rosescries]

!! Trigger warning !! Hello I was wondering if you still did asks for there's still magic if you don't that's completely ok and you can ignore this but if you still do I was wondering how would the skeletons react if MC had an issue with self h@rm? This would take place near the end after sans woke up from his coma. You can also ignore this ask if your uncomfortable with this theme

(and I was wondering if you could do the lodge and non-lodge skeletons reaction if your comfortable with this theme)

(Ps I love your stories they're amazing)

Under the cut for content.

Well, they'd certainly feel worse, but they'd all react pretty much the same. They'd all be rather upset, quietly devastated. They'd all be watching for any new scars that might pop up, and watching her whenever she's holding sharp objects.

The lodge skeletons would be worried that some of those scars might be their fault, specifically Edge, Black, Stretch, and Red. Simply because of how they treated her and would feel really guilty about it. But they also would think that they.... really have no business acknowledging them? With how they treated her, would it really be their place to say anything? Probably not, so they'd just... watch out for anything getting worse.

Blue, Edge, and Black would be kind of pissed off about it actually, even if none of them would let it show. Especially around Mc since she's seen too much of Edge and Black angry specifically. Their anger is just born out of... not knowing what to do. They all owe Mc a lot and don't really know... how to fight something like this. They don't know what to do, especially considering all they've done to her.

Stretch, Papyrus, Lilac, and Charmed are pretty emotional about it. Papyrus feels a bit more comfortable actually bringing it up to Mc though, and comforting the living hell out of Mc. Lilac and Charmed may bring it up or try to comfort her, but only if it seems like she needs it. Otherwise they'll leave it alone for the most part. Stretch wants to, but gets the feeling Mc wouldn't like or be comfortable with that. So he'll just keep an eye socket out.

Red, Lunar, Guns, Ace, G, and Aster are upset, but they won't bring it up unless she does. Red for obvious reasons, he doubts that's something Mc would ever want to talk to him about. But all of them just... don't think it's their business to pry into. Lunar, Guns, Ace, G, and Aster are worried, of course, but they just don't want to... open up old wounds or anything. Red and Lunar are pretty used to seeing people with scars and know how personal that can be too.

Sans, Grey, and Mutt understand and relate to that just... a bit too much, more than they'd want to admit. They all have their own scars after all. Again, none of them would bring it up unless it seems like they need to. Mutt would acknowledge them by tracing them if Mc lets him, more just as a way of saying "I see them. I see what you've gone through and I'm here for you now." Grey would just rub his thumb over the back of her hand and hug her tight. Sans would just leave it alone and not acknowledge it because he's pretty sure Mc wouldn't want him to.

None of them want to see more scars, that's for sure. Mc has done more for their family than can ever be repaid. It hurts to see that she's been hurt that bad.

[clothyume]

Astraea's Atelier: Ally of Justice Part Three

Ally of Justice: Part Three

Summer 

(A few moments later)

Shu: Is that so!? 

I thought you two were behaving strangely! Looking over here knowingly while grinning, ah just thinking about it annoys me! 

Chiaki: But, um, well…? 

Kurou: Haha. I’m surprised that you would have porn mags hidden away at all, I was at a loss, thinking “what do you mean?”

Shu: The truth is obvious without having to think about it! That’s not my possession! It’s unpleasant that you would even embrace such suspicion! 

Kurou: Well, that’s what I thought. Even back then you couldn’t handle ‘that stuff’. 

Chiaki: Well, it’s not really that unusual is it? Even if that was your possession, there’s no need to be shy, is there? 

It’s perfectly legal for students to own that kinda stuff isn’t it? 

Shu: Non! Don’t be so strangely considerate with your response! If you take on that undesirable attitude with me I’ll strike you! 

Chiaki: That’s harsh! I didn’t expect to cause trouble in Itsuki’s house, so it’s gonna be hard finding someplace else to stay! 

We don’t know where any of the hotels are in this town! 

Kurou: You’re right. Honestly, I tried to make a reservation while I was still in Japan, but the person on the other end of the phone could only speak foreign languages, so that was a bust. 

Shu: How many times do I need to tell you, if that’s the case why did you even think about coming abroad…? 

Kurou: Because it’s work. In that sense, I thought I should ask ‘Producer’ or something. 

If I asked Miss Anzu, she’d say something like ‘you can count on me!’. 

Shu: You’re too disorganised. How many times do I need to tell you to make solid plans before you jump on an aeroplane? 

Kurou: I don’t know what else to say. I’m still not used to the process of ES, like hiring a producer with L$ or something. 

Chiaki: It’d be useful if you could master that process. It’s better to get used to it than to learn, right now it's essential to keep repeating trial and error. 

Shu: Forward thinking is certainly your merit, but I want you to put yourself in this position to understand your blunder. 

Chiaki: I’m repeating Kiryu but I don’t know what else to say. 

Enough of that! Let’s get back to the topic! 

If that wasn’t Itsuki’s possession, why was it hiding under your bed? I smell a conspiracy! 

Shu: Must you keep bringing that up… I suppose you’re at an age where you’re surprisingly curious about that topic, Morisawa. 

Chiaki: It’s not like that at all! When you look at stuff like that, your reaction is what’s not normal, Itsuki! 

I think you’ve got yourself involved in a supernatural phenomenon!  

If that’s true, I want to find the answer! To return the favour of our overnight lodgings and meal, that’s what it means to be an ally of justice! 

Shu: Fufu. In your case, you certainly are an honest one…

However, such indecent things should be kept to yourself. 

Kurou: Haha. But sex talk is the standard for a men’s trip. 

Shu: You two seem to have a misunderstanding. This is by no means an obscene and vulgar booklet created to stimulate men’s lust. 

Kurou: Just say it’s a porn mag. 

Shu: To use such a word is detestable. 

Chiaki: You really can’t handle ‘that stuff’, huh Itsuki. Though, me too.

Kurou: It’s not like I’m great at it either, just to clarify.  

Shu: Fufu. I understand that. Contrary to your appearance, you are not barbaric, nor vulgar, Kiryu. 

If you were that type of person, we certainly wouldn’t have formed a bond. 

Kurou: Though in hindsight, back then I was just like any old bad kid. 

Shu: It’s merely that you never acted like the real you. 

Anyway. I think what Morisawa pointed out earlier might be true, I must be involved in a strange incident. 

Chiaki: Ooh! I knew it! What kind of case could be unravelling!? 

Shu: Don’t get excited… I don’t even know if we should be calling it a ‘case’, it’s merely an unusual happening. 

Recently, in the atelier I was lent, inexplicable things have been appearing regularly. 

Chiaki: Inexplicable things…? 

Shu: Such things like what the two of you pulled out from beneath my bed. 

Kurou: In other words, pornographic stuff? 

Shu: That’s right. Ah… Uh… I’m embarrassed using such vocabulary, so it's hard to explain. 

Seeing is believing, so let me show you to the scene of the crime. It will also be a good way to settle your stomach after the meal. 

[obsessivelollipoplalala]

I posted the article about Mary auctioning of Freddie's collection on Reddit & and group on facebook for Queen. I have since left the r/Queen group and there was one comment talking about Kashmira if Mary was going to give it to her.

This was my reply which shows the truth but of course the stans refuse to see it about how She wouldn't give his collection to his loved ones since she never cared about them.

I also made an example of how she refused to give Jim the cats he gave Freddie and how she denied, Joe, Jim and Phoebe stuff from garden lodge.

And I got this reply

And I got down voted about it, so I gave an edit (your probably gonna laugh) : Thanks for the -3 y'all refuse to see the truth about Mary, all because you have fantasies of being in her place in having whohoo time with Freddie. Y'all put her on this pedestal while she treated everyone Freddie loved like dirt and betrayed Freddie after he died.

Guess you love that about her too eh? Good ta know!

Thank goodness I left, also another said that Mary could do anything she wants by selling Freddie's collection

-------

I do love when Mary stans loudly tell everyone they're just as cold and callous as the woman herself. Seriously, every time someone defends her stealing Jim, Joe, and Phoebe's cats, the belongings Freddie gave them, and even their own things (like Jim's pictures of his family) with "BUT LEGALLY THEY'RE HERS", it's one of those things where everyone knows something could be legally true but morally wrong lmao, and I truly think it shows a person's true colors if they defend behavior like that. A lot of people show their true colors when it comes to legal documents like wills and stuff, actually--we had a big blowup in my family over my grandfather's will when he died because family members got greedy.

I do think it's funny that the general reaction I've seen seems to be people very uncomfortable with the whole thing, and of fucking course Mary stans are like "if I don't defend horrible behavior of the woman who straightwashes a dead celebrity for me, I'll die"

For what it's worth, I told my very offline, non-fandom mom about the whole thing, and her immediate response was to ask why the music-related stuff wasn't going to Freddie's family or a museum, and that selling things like his comb is "ghoulish" lol

[cursedfortune]

neschastnyy​:

A realization had hit him. A realization that he wondered whether other Os Valesians ever had. Standing there, out in the open and encompassing cold of a season that they hardly ever had up there. Adal could not help but wonder whether it was wrong that he came to appreciate the presence of nature, the sight of these walls of trees that surrounded the hut he had been seeking shelter within for longer than he initially should have.

It was by far not the first time he was in the middle of it and outside of the main capital Non Gratia Mundi they too had beautiful places that were green and full of trees, different kinds than fir and spruce. But they did have trees and the mansions that were scattered throughout the open country (little of it as there was given that Os Valesia, as any other nation that was part of the flying islands of Gardia, consisted of exactly that — islands) did have huge beautiful gardens that were well-tended to. Nevertheless. Everything in Os Valesia was planned and handled — even the forests. Nothing was untouched, nothing was allowed to grow as it wanted to grow. 

During his time serving as infantryman and while stationed in Tobraskan, before he had earned his title of Fähnrich and had been sent off with a small group of men, Adal had ended up lost and left behind in an almost same-such forest, he felt. That time he had almost found his end between towering trees, all by himself. That arrow that had been lodged into his side that soon rendered his legs weak and him unable to walk at all anymore.

Although his mind had wandered, the towering man did not flinch when the cloak was placed over his shoulders. His gaze did not waver and his head did not turn to greet or listen to his guest — who he was truly the guest to. He just blinked, unfazed almost. Allowing the cold to seep into his skin, through his flesh, all the way down to his bones. That beautiful winter-white that laid glistening so mesmerizingly as it was certainly devastating and deadly.

„We hardly have that much snow at home.“ A revelation uncharacteristic for the likes of him yet a sharing of information he did not find crucial at all. What would the witch do anyway, knowing that the climate up on those islands was different from the one down here? Why else would they call half a stretch of Gardia die Südliche Flammenzone anyway?

„Non Gratia Mundi is… just buildings. Towers. Industry.“

Now his head turned, a little, slowly. His two differently-colored eyes landed on the face of the witch as if expecting a reaction.

Adal’s demeanor and behavior had never once rattled the witch in truth. Yes, his personality could be frustrating at times to manage but his overall nature was one that made sense to her. Perhaps it was because of the wars she had served in - his ways being more familiar to her than others. Arrogant and prideful he may be but it didn’t stop her from seeing the haunted glimmers in his eyes of a past she did not know.

He was a mystery much like how she was often an enigma to mortals. A secret incarnate that she did not pry at to solve, merely offered herself to be present for when he wished to share himself to any degree. 

Thankfully, it would seem he did not care to shrug off the cloak she had placed around him. That was good. He could be stubborn and defiant to the most basic of things when he wished to be. For now she stayed silent, tracking his gaze to peer out upon the the white that blanketed all they could see. Yet her attentiveness was ever present when he chose to speak, head inclining a touched as her gaze peered up at him.

“Tis no wonder then... I was forged within wintry. You burn hot, like a machine... no, like a weapon being heated within the flames.” Were weapons not just another form of industry in this era? The witch couldn’t help but muse. “Yet you stand within the cold as though you belong here. And I yearn the same warmth that is within me, that cannot break through my own skin.”

Mortem’s lips curled into an amused smile. It was up to perspective whether her words had any depth to them or were just her humoring their similarities and differences. Either way, she seemed unbothered whether Adal or even herself may consider her initial answer as. “Ah... Do you like it here? Within nature, I mean?” Her body shifted to partially face him now. Not wholly, not so ready to be that intrusive. But curious all the same of whatever Adal was willing to share about where he was from in comparison to where he currently found himself.

[proserpina-magnus]

ok ok I have to be honest I got this idea while reading your last marauders blurb. OT WAS GREAT BTW can you write James x reader where she has never done anything sexual and is really inexperienced. and James is showing her how to touch herself or just helping her explore her sexuality/making her feel really comfortable and safe/while being really gentle with her?

Idk if this makes sense, but I love your writing

Hi!! I'm literally so sorry this took so long, I rewrote it 3 different times. I hope you enjoy and I'm so glad you liked my other Marauders blurb!! Thank you for the request!!! xoxo

One Where You're Innocent [ James Potter ]

Word Count: 1.6k

[ Warning: Fem!reader, finger sucking, clit play(orgasm), fingered penetration, kissing, cum tasting, praise kink, words such as "baby" and "pretty/filthy girl" ]

You look up at James anxiously, knees digging into his bedsheets. You had just let out your biggest secret, one that you had been desperately ashamed of. You had never touched yourself, nor have you done anything...remotely sexual with another person before. Your face was red, a warm deep feeling filling in your gut. You felt this type of desperation, watching eagerly to see James's reaction.

"You've never...?" James leads on, his eyes a bit wide. You both had been dating for some time, but you've only shared a few kisses. You couldn't tell what he was thinking and truthfully, James didn't know how to react. He found it kind of erotic that he could be your first. He pushes that want away, trying to focus on you.

"No...never," you admit, looking down towards your knees. You played with your skirt, fiddling with the ends. James rubbed his slacks, trying to calm his nerves.

"We don't have to do anything, I don't mind waiting...or even never touching you like that," James soothes, trying to get you to calm down and realize he wasn't upset or appalled. You felt a nerve of want, your body upset at his suggestion.

"No, I want you to touch me," you expressed quickly, your legs pressing together to form subconscious relief. James watched, his eyes fixating on your twitching thighs. James wants to lose it, he found your flushed expression adorable. He pushes those thoughts away once again, his hand coming to hold your arm.

"Maybe let's not go all the way today then, would you like me to show you how to touch yourself?" James asked, he sounded so innocent. You felt warmth invade your belly again, your thighs spread as you push your cunt near the bed. You nod, your chest heaving as you take deep breaths.

"Are you absolutely sure? Because if any time you want me to stop, I will," James makes sure you understand, his hand moving to hold your head. You sigh from the touch, leaning into it. You nod once again, before mumbling; "I know I'm safe with you, jamsie,"

James smiled at your words, he pulled his hand away as he stood up. You grew confused, wondering what he was doing. James signalled you to wait a moment, he just looked over you with deep loving eyes. "Okay, I've got it," he muttered to himself, moving to prop himself behind you.

"What are you doing?" You asked, turning your head back to look at him. James only chuckled,  his lips planting just below your ear. You shivered, sinking into his chest. His hands come to hold your waist, peppering your neck with sweet kisses.

"I'm thinking it would be less stressful if I just guide you, are you comfortable with that?" James asked gently, one of his hands dipping down to hold your lower belly. Your breath hitched, legs closing on instinct to hide. James watched over your shoulder, his hand instantly coming back up to hold your waist. "I'm sorry, was that too much?"

"No, you just startled me. I'm okay, I promise," you whisper, your head leaning into his chest. You look around the room, trying to distract your bubbling nerves.

"How about you undress when you're ready," James implied, his hands never leaving your waist. You nodded once again, your hair tickling his cheek. You take a few deep breaths, before moving your hands to push your knickers down your thighs. You felt James shift, his eyes watching intensely. You pulled the soft fabric off your ankles, tossing it next to you.

"Please touch me jamsie," you breathed in a whisper, your legs spreading. Your skirt hid your warm cunt, the fabric covering just your hipbones. Your legs propped up, knees red. James let his hands come to your thighs, gripping the doughy flesh against his large fingers.

"I'm going to go slow, I'll explain everything I'm going to do," James told you, his hands pushing your thighs wider. You grasped onto his elbow, butterflies fluttering in your stomach. "It's okay, I've got you," James whispered, his right hand coming to gently push your folds apart.

"I'm just going to rub your clit, tell me if it's not making you feel good," James didn't give you much time to prepare, his index and middle fingers pressed your clit. You twitched at the feeling, fingers holding his arm for safety. He started to rub circular motions, making you take a heavy breath.

Low moans pushed past your lips, your thighs spreading more at the feeling. James held your hip with his other hand, holding you to his chest.

"James, I feel so warm," you express, not understanding why the slow-motion felt so good. James chuckled his lips against the shell of your ear. Your body jerked at a sudden wave of nerves, your hands gripping his large wrist. "Don't stop, don't stop," you pleaded, holding his hand to your cunt. James's fingers speed up, moans leaking from your throat.

"Does your pretty pussy like the attention baby?" James coo's, watching as you spasm and become a moaning mess in his lap. You're mumbling through moans, begging him not to stop. You feel an electric sensation spread through your body, your mind blank as you glow in the glory.

"So good James, so good," you ramble, eyes slightly opened as you lay completely in his embrace. James pressed kisses against your head, showering you in affection. "I know it does pretty girl, you were perfect, made such pretty sounds," James praises, making your mind fuzzy.

"Again, please touch me again," you beg, your body still feeling needy. You desperately want to feel that pleasure again, it felt like heaven. James smiled into your hair, parting your legs wider.

"Okay pretty girl, I'm going to try something new," James explained, his fingers moving against your folds. Your body shudder, still sensitive from your last orgasm. You whine as his finger slide against your clit, you twitch in his grasp. "You're okay, I'm not going to play with your clit anymore," he mused against your ear.

"I'm going to stuff you full with my fingers, would you like that baby?" James questioned, his fingers prodding at your dripping entrance. Your mind didn't understand much what he meant, but your body craved the attention so you pleaded for him.

"Please, I wanna be filled, hurts so bad," you completely crumble, tears lodging between your eyelids as you let out a sob. James pulls back slightly, his non-occupied hand coming to hold your face so he can see your pretty face.

"It's okay baby, you're doing so well for me," James distracted you while his fingers pushed deep inside, you let your mouth fall open. Your body gripped around his two large fingers, eyes twitching as you let out a whimper.

"Jamsie, oh god," you rasped, your nails digging into his arms from the pleasured intrusion. James has a smirk on his face, eyes filled with a longing love.

"Does it feel good pretty girl?" James asked a hum on his lips from your reaction. He adored the way your body shook, you took his finger so well. You couldn't answer, you just stared into his eyes with deep lust.

"Move them, move them," you repeat, lost in the sensation. James pushes you back into his chest, letting your lean into him for support. He complies with your wishes, his fingers curling into your warmth. You gasp, a loud moan gets pulled from your vocals. James doesn't waste time, his fingers curl and search for your golden spot.

James doesn't take long to find it, his fingers moving at a glorious pace as his fingers move just right. Your body loses it, your hands gripping at anything you could find. You let your eyes close, another new feeling filling you.

His fingers abuse your cunt, you let out a loud whimpering moan when another finger gets pushed through. His gentle fingers curl and twist deep inside of you, they moved fast but not hard. You could only grip his wrist, your body arching to get closer.

Before you can realize it, your orgasm hits you fast and quick. It makes you see spinning stars, your body limp against James's chest. James lets you take a moment to relax, his fingers still buried deep inside you.

"I'm going to take them out, I know your sensitive but I've got you," James whispered softly, his fingers slipping away from your quivering cunt. You whimper, his used fingers covered in your juices. Before he can wipe them, you grab his wrist and pull it towards you.

You take his coated fingers into your mouth, James stiffens from behind you. You suck his fingers clean, your tongue running between the slit of his fingers. You turn towards James slightly, cunt throbbing as you look up at him with wide innocent eyes.

"Filthy girl, you should've shared with me," James says, his fingers slipping from your mouth. You almost whine from the loss, but James's tongue meets your own. You sigh, his lips forming over yours.

When he pulls away, James wipes his fingers over his lips. He makes sure he gets all the taste, a deep groan leaves his lips.

"Fuck baby, I've should've made you ride my face. You taste like candy," James compliments, a glorious smirk on his lips.

"It's not too late," you comply, a greedy need wanting his mouth on you. James laughs, pulling you closer.

"Alright, let's get started then..."

[libraryofnesta]

Tied to Ruin

ao3 link

Summary:

Cassian and Nesta were lovers, partners in crime. They did everything together. That is until tragedy strikes, causing Nesta to run away, far from everything she once knew.

Over five years later, Nesta is living life to as full as it can get. It’s not until an incident occurs that drags her into far more than she bargained for.

Notes:

thanks so much for reading. i'm a huge hoe for exes to lovers, so i have like 20 ideas in my head, and this is one of them. It's multichapter. i'm not sure how long this is gonna be, but definitely over ten chapter. this fic has two timelines. One will show them from when they're kids to teens, and one while they're adults. Both will occur at the same time, so things will start to unravel as you read.btw! velaris is gonna be like a super small town in new york. like no one knows about it.

TW: implied domestic violence, nothing graphic.

Chapter 1: lonely beds, different cities

Words, how little they mean

When you're a little too late

I stood right by the tracks

Your face in a locket

Good girls, hopeful they'll be and long they will wait

-

Sad Beautiful Tragic

Taylor Swift

2016, Small Town Velaris

“Please,” she whispers, voice hoarse. Nesta is practically begging at this point, but she has nothing else to relent to. “We can get out of here.” She swallows hard when he doesn’t reply. “We’re still young Cassian, we can still-”

“Nesta.” He says. It's one word, but it makes her pause. He rarely calls her Nesta. It’s always ‘Nes’ or ‘Sweetheart.’

“I can’t.”

Their lives have changed so drastically over the past few weeks. Nesta’s whole childhood is here. Everything she’s ever known. She’s not sure how much more of it she can handle now.

She’s well aware of the tears streaming down her face. Nesta doesn’t know what she can say to convince him, so she says the one thing that she’s been repeating over and over.

“You can…”

Cassian’s face seems to harden. The look he gives her makes her take a step back. He hasn’t looked at her like that in years. “Go ahead and leave Nesta.”, he says, voice rising. “Go live that picture perfect you always wanted. I won’t stop you.”

“Not everyone wants what you do.”

2021 New York, Manhattan

Something about leaving Valkyrians still makes her feel at odds. She’s not as resistant to the sight of blood anymore, and she’s not sure if she can ride a motorcycle as well as she used to. There are still parts that linger though. She still remembers how to throw a punch. A damn good one too. She still feels uneasy when someone walks in the same direction for too long though. It might be the worst part of it all.

Nesta doesn’t do much for fun.  She doesn’t dance as much as she likes. The amount of books she reads has decreased. Her days consist of work and eating, even though she skips more meals than she should. But she’s free. That’s what really matters, doesn’t it?

The muscles in Nesta’s body ache. She just finished a seven hour shift, and got a promotion that pays much better. Nesta wants to celebrate. She wants to talk to someone. It’s been so long since she’s talked to anyone. The fear of someone finding out about her past is lodged so deep in her head it caused her to isolate. The simple way of putting it is she has no friends.

Coworkers are the only source of non-work related conversation she engages in. It’s always small talk too. Just as Nesta is about to fall asleep, she rubs her eyes and forces herself to stay awake. Getting up from the lumpy couch, Nesta walks to her cabinet, grabbing a random mug and pouring wine into it. Once she gets a better look at the mug, she can’t help but scoff.

It’s ironic. Complaining about being lonely. It’s almost like she chose loneliness. She loves the quiet. When she was younger, all she wanted was alone time. She dreads it now. Nesta gets up after finishing her glass.  She’s a bit drowsy, and is way too tired to walk all the way to her room. Instead Nesta walks back over to her couch. She lies horizontally, staring into the abyss until she eventually falls asleep.

She dreams of seeing him that night. It’s a regular occurrence. It’s lessened over the years, but never fully disappeared. The image of him is blurry. It’s not as precise as it used to be. She hates still thinking of him. It doesn’t stop her from reminiscing a little though.

Her being upset makes sense of course. They’d known each other for over ten years, hating one another at first. Eventually, he began to grow on her. Their bickering had become playful, before they once again became estranged.

“Cassian?”

The figure turns around, and he knocks the wind out of her. His hair is out of it’s usual bun.  He gives her that familiar boyish smile, walking towards her and putting an arm on her.

“Missed me Sweetheart?”, he says, ruffling her hair a bit. Nesta scrunches her nose in response.

“You wish.”

He rolls his eyes. “Yeah yeah whatever.” He talks for a while. Nesta’s barely paying attention. It’s just nice to hear his voice again. He asks her what she’s reading, and she replies the same every time. It’s silent after a while. They’ve talked themselves out. It’s a nice silence though. Her favorite silence.

Cassian stares at her for a few seconds, giving her a soft smile and pushing a loose hair behind her ear.

“Come back,” he whispers.

Her breath stutters. “It’s been five years, Cass,” she mutters, breaking eye contact. Her eyes flicker between the ground and his face, gauging his reaction.

He doesn’t stop looking at her.

“I didn’t want to leave,” said Nesta. There’s a lump in her throat.

He scrubs a hand over his face. “Yet here we are.”

“You know why I left.”

Her eyes feel like they’re beginning to water. “I asked you to come with me. You’re the one who didn’t.”

Cassian looks to the side. He looks impassive, yet also emotionless. “You’re the one who ran away, Nesta.”

“I didn’t run away.”

He scoffs in response. “Keep telling yourself that.” Cassian starts walking away. It’s cloudy and has no solid ground or sky. At that moment she remembers where she really is. Nesta stands there, waiting until he fully fades away. It always feels too real.

The dreams always end like that.

Nesta can barely pry her eyes open when she wakes up. She has the next two weeks off. Her boss, Helion, had insisted she take a week or two off, since the bar was under a small renovation. She checks her phone and it reads 12:03. Jesus, she really had overslept.

In all honesty Nesta had no idea what to do with her free time. Maybe she’ll finally finish that book she started months ago. But in reality Nesta knows all she’ll do is go to a bar and let a stranger fuck her into oblivion until she kicks them out or leaves.

By the time Nesta leaves her house it’s around 3:00.  She goes to the coffee shop next door. She orders a coffee and sits in the corner of the room. Nesta somehow feels like the center of attention. It’s an empty shop, but it feels like all eyes on her. The room feels too cold.

The feeling follows her when she goes to the local bookstore. It’s crowded, but the area is quiet. Nesta browses through the shelves, sticking to the romance section. She holds a few books. It’s not until Nesta drops one, people begin to look at her. It makes a loud thump hitting the floor. Several pairs of eyes turn to her. The cover is of a shirtless man too.

Fuck , she thinks, This is embarrassing. Nesta purses her lips, hand curling into a fist as she puts the book back on it’s shelf.

It’s around 5:00 when she takes the train home. Nesta spent the rest of her day at the park, not wanting to stay at home. It doesn’t feel like home as much as she’d like it to though. Finally, Nesta makes it home.

She’s in an empty parking lot. The area she lives in is pretty small.  Nesta knows basically everyone in her apartment complex. It’s a tiny place. She never talks to anyone, but they do acknowledge each other. Barely anyone has a car either, herself included. So it is a bit weird to see an unrecognizable car. It’s odd, but Nesta thinks nothing of it. It’s probably just someone visiting.

Nesta goes into her apartment, before leaving once more to go to the bar that’s the second closest to her apartment. She’s usually working at this time, flirting with customers and taking them home when her shift ends.

The bar is crowded and loud. Lights are flashing, voices yelling, bodies moving. It’s out of her comfort zone. She’s been doing this for years and is still isn’t used to it. She sits on one of the stools where the drinks are served. A girl approaches her. Nesta never approaches anyone. She can’t see clearly in the light. The girl’s hair is brunette, though her roots are dark. Her brown skin illuminates in the flickering light.

“Hey”, she says “I’m Nora” Nora extends her hand to her. Nesta smirks in response, resting her elbow on the counter grasping her hand with the other.

“I’m Mila,” she says. No matter what she does, Nesta will never use her real name. Nora’s eyebrows raise. Nesta can see her lick tongue move as it pushes on her skin.

“Pretty name.”

They talk for around five minutes. It’s all small talk. They drink while they talk. Most of the things she responds with are lies anyways. Nora grasp’s her arm with her hand. “Wanna get out of here?” she asks. Her words are slurred, and Nesta has to restrain herself from flinching.

Something in her head tells her not to let anyone in her house though. Something is wrong, but she can’t put her mind on it. The idea of letting a stranger in her house sends goosebumps across her arms. Before, she’d never question it twice. Now that she thinks of it, doing this practically screams stranger danger. Especially with her past, this person could be anyone. Nesta slowly probes herself from the girl.

“I’ve gotta go”, she says. “Sorry, but there's something I need to do.” The girl doesn't seem to mind, either too drunk to care, or only looking for a one night stand. She nods, before introducing herself to someone else. Nesta feels her chest lighten, exiting the crowded bar to call an uber.

Whenever it’s quiet, she always reminisces.

2006, Small Town Velaris

Nesta wakes up and finds herself stranded. She has no idea where she is. She’s lying in a bed inside a mostly empty room. There’s only a few pieces of furniture, a stool and a drawer. It’s relatively small.  The last thing she remembers is being in a car with her sisters and parents. She hears voices outside of the room yelling.

“You expect me to leave-”

“Her father is-”

“She’s nine what would she-”

“So what if she’s young!”

“-s innocent so what if-”

She hears a loud smack. The silence after is deafening. The voices are quiet after, whispers. Afterwards, Nesta hears footsteps approaching. She scrunches her eyes shut, trying to pretend to be asleep. Nesta hears the door open and close. A hand lays on her forehead. As the person removes it, a calming voice talks. “Are you awake?” Nesta slowly looks at the person, opening only one eye, then another. She sees a woman with black hair and tan skin. Her cheeks are flushed and she has a small smile on her face.

The woman squats down so she’s the same height as the bed Nesta is laying on. “Hi,” the woman whispers, voice solemn and comforting. “My names Aurora,” she says. Nesta squishes her lips together. She’s confused and feels like crying. Nesta doesn’t cry though. She’s pretty sure her eyes water though, because Aurora strokes her hair and whispers, “It’s okay to cry.”

Nesta gasps and shakes her head. “Mommy says I’m not supposed to cry.” Aurora seems to be shocked silent. The silence makes Nesta become aware of everything that is happening. She slowly sits up. Once her feet are off the bed, Nesta quickly sprints to the door, opening it and running out. She has no idea where she’s going.

Suddenly, Nesta is hit with a hard impact, and falls down on her butt. She looks up and sees two boys. They’re both around the same height. They have the same dark hair too, except one is longer than the other. Nesta gets up and brushes off the dust on her leggings.

She notices it then. The leggings. She’s never worn pants before.

It’s also when she notices the juice smeared across one of the boy's shirts. It’s the long haired one’s. He drops the red cup to the ground and makes an angry noise. “That was my favorite shirt.”

Nesta feels sheepish as she whispers a quiet, “Sorry.”

The one with longer hair whispers to the other boy, obviously meaning for her to hear too. “She’s probably not even double digits.” The other boy is quiet, looking at the ground. He seems nervous and shy.

Nesta feels a sense of outrage course through her. She pouts, crossing her arms. “I’m almost ten. I’m nine and a half” The boy crosses his arms too.

“Well I’m ten and a half,” he says.

“Cassian,” Aurora scolds. “Play nice.” She puts a hand on Nesta’s shoulder and bends down. “I need to talk to…” She doesn’t continue.

Nesta turns towards her, and realizes she needs her name. “Nesta,” she says.

Aurora smiles, “That’s a wonderful name.”

Cassian still seems angry. “I think it’s stupid.” Aurora sighs and gets up. “Azriel”, she says to the other boy. He hadn’t talked the whole time, Nesta almost forgot he was there. “Make sure he stays out of trouble. And Cassian, please change your shirt.” The two (stupid) boys walk away. Once they’re from a far enough distance, Aurora looks back down at her. “I have to talk to you about something.”

2021 New York, Manhattan

Nesta walks into her apartment tired and half asleep. Once inside her apartment, she changes into more comfortable clothes, sweatpants and a grey t-shirt.

Nesta’s about to go to bed, until she hears the sound of glass shattering and liquid spilling. She freezes, thinking about the mug of wine she left out.  

No.

Nesta scrambles towards the kitchen and grabs a flashlight from a cabinet, flashing the light to the ground. The mug is shattered to pieces, and she can still see little droplets of wine. The words aren’t visible anymore, letters broken and unreadable.

There’s no way it could’ve fallen on its own. It was in the middle of her counter. Unless...

Suddenly it all makes sense. The unrecognizable car in the parking lot. The uneasy feeling in her stomach. The constant nagging in her head, telling her that something is wrong.

She thinks about calling the police but goes against it. Years in a fucking biker gang taught her better then to trust those scumbags.

She always kept a gun in her house. Just in case. She really hates how no matter what she does. she’ll always be connected to this.

The person inside her apartment most definitely knows where she is. Nesta grabs a broom, sweeping the glass shards into an empty bag. She can fix it later. Tying it up, Nesta leaves it on her counter.

There's a wall blocking the entrance to her bathroom. She walks towards it, opening and closing the door so it seems she went inside. Grabbing her gun from the small drawer, Nesta lays her back against the wall, barely peeking out the wall, but just enough so she can see them as they crawl out from behind her couch.

The figure moves stealthily, back turned towards her. If she weren’t directly staring at it, there would be no way of knowing it was there. The moves look familiar, but she can’t put her mind on it. The moonlight shines on them so she can see the most obvious features. It’s not until the floor creaks the figure turns towards her direction. Nesta turns back to face her bathroom door, hands drawn to tight fists. There’s no way they hadn’t seen her. She moved too slow. Nesta peeks her head out to look again.

It’s not until she sees a familiar pair of scarred hands in the moonlight, it all comes together.

“Azriel Night?”

In dreams

I meet you in warm conversation

We both wake

In lonely beds

In different cities

And time

Is taking its sweet time erasing you

And you've got your demons

And darlin' they all look like me

PSA!! go to ask’s to be added to tag list

[slasherbastard]

Could you please place my order but if it is too complicated you can disregard it.

Imagine that the Slachers (Michael, Jason, Brahms, Vincent and Bo) come home or something and see their beloved's best friend declaring that he misses her and that he loves her, then that friend gives him a kiss on the mouth {for demonstrate your love}.

What would be the boys' reaction to seeing this scene? And what will happen next?

thank you for the request! i’ve been wanting to write this request out ever since i got it, also a quick warning for non-consensual kissing 

(gif credit: thepumpkin-queenn)

Michael Myers

Yet another quiet night spent waiting for Michael to return from his 'night job' and you were spending this lonely night watching horror movies like you usually did. The character wandered around in the dark helplessly trying to distance herself from the killer and just as the killer jumped out, there a knock on the front door. You jumped up and turned to the door and checked the time, Michael wasn't meant to be home for a few more hours. Suspicious, you grabbed the knife sitting on the coffee table - Michael taught you how to defend yourself although he still worries you'll end up stabbing yourself instead of any intruders - and creeped up to the door, you knew Michael wasn't one for knocking and usually just barged in since you always left the door unlocked for him.

As you got closer you could hear talking. "- Shit what if I got the wrong address? Y/N? Hello? It's me, Y/F/N!" You froze and dropped the knife, you haven't heard from this guy in years, how did he find you? You quickly picked the knife back up and slid it into the waistband of your jeans just in case and opened the door, and yeah it was him alright. "Y/N? It's really you?" Without warning he wrapped his arms around you and pulled you in for a hug which you returned, the two of you broke apart and your friend let himself past you into the house, you weren't planning on doing anything because you knew Michael wouldn't forgive you but you were still worried about what would happen if he came home to find this complete stranger in his house.

"Y/F/N, I hope I don't sound mean but what are you doing here?" "I wanted to do this" He pulled you in and kissed you, smiling as he pulled away but that smile faded as he realised you weren't even looking at him. "What is it, Y/N?" He said amusingly as he followed your eyes and turned around to see what you were looking at, only to be stabbed in the chest by the infamous Shape, Michael Myers. Michael removed the knife and watched Y/F/N fall to the ground, calling for your help before passing out. Michael slammed the door and stared back at you waiting for an explanation to what he just witnessed.

"I swear I didn't kiss him back. He just found out where I was living, came in and kissed me." The words felt like a lie as they passed your lips but you weren't lying. You were scared Michael was going to kill you as well but instead he just stood there and continued to stare. "I don't have feelings for him, he was just an old friend from school." You heard a grunt coming from behind the mask as he approached the body and picked it up before disappearing outside with it. You yourself decided to disappear upstairs and go to bed.

You waited and waited for Michael to join you but he never did. At one point you got tired of waiting and got tired in general and decided to just call it a night and fall asleep and if you got stabbed mid-dream then at least it would most likely hurt less. At one point you woke up in the middle of the night to the sound of someone shuffling into the room and the creaking of the floor. You lazily turned to just see Michael in your view and yawned as you sat up and switched on the lamp beside you, he was taking off his coveralls which looked a little more bloodier than usual which did raise a few questions that you were too tired and too concerned to ask, but there was one question you felt like you had to ask.

"Do you hate me?" Michael looked over at you and tilted his head in confusion as his bloody clothes fell to the floor and he slid on a different t-shirt. "I swear he just kissed me but I didn't kiss back. Do you hate me?" Michael didn't move for a few moments but eventually he removed his mask and shook his head, then he got into bed and pulled you into his body. You turned off the lamp as he lazily played with your hair. You felt like he was still mad at you to some extent, but knowing that he decided to let you live another day was a relief.

(gif credit: vhs-ninja)

Jason Voorhees

Sometimes it got very lonely at Camp Crystal Lake, as much as you loved Jason you also missed a lot of your friends and family who you never got to see since Jason hated being away from you and he also hated letting people leave the campsite alive. Sometimes you'd bring up letting a friend visit for just the day but Jason would always either shake his head or sign "No." at you. Jason felt a bit guilty for saying no but he was afraid of losing you and just knowing that there were people out there who were 1000% better than he was made him want to shrivel up at the bottom of the lake.

As worried as he is, he trusts you a lot so he waited until you were ready to ask the question and signed "Yes." before you could even say it. Your smile warmed his heart and he knew that you had no ill intentions with this friend of yours, the only thing that saddened Jason was that he couldn't meet this friend of yours and would have to hide - or in this case, lurk in the background just in case.

Jason couldn't help but feel a bad vibe from that friend of yours but he didn't want to ruin the moment so he just watched from behind a few trees. Everything was fine, you and your friend were sitting on the pier with your feet dangling over the lake, just talking about drama you missed in your hometown. "So, what's with you living on this campsite?" "Oh I don't live here. My house is through that forest-y area over there, I just like coming here to clear my mind."

"Can we go back to your place?" "Oh, I didn't finish cleaning. Lets just stay here for a while" you lied but your friend was already getting up and walking around so you followed him, hopping as you tried to keep up with him as you slipped your shoes back on. You were hesitant but guided him to the old cabin you and Jason were still revamping in the middle of the woods. You looked up and noticed Jason peaking out from behind a bush and subtly nodded at him as reassurance at everything was okay.

You were making lunch for the two of you when you noticed your friend sneaking looks at you through the reflection in the window in front of you but thought nothing of it. You looked past the reflection of your friend's face and out the window to see Jason was staring at you again, you smiled and signed "I am okay." at him, only seconds later your friend was behind you. He grabbed you and turned you around. "I've been wanting to do this for a long time." He paused before going in to kiss you softly.

Jason wasn't happy, watching the scene take place, he was at the cabin and before you knew it, Jason's machete's was lodged into your friend's skull and then he was dead. At that point you were worried that Jason had lost all trust in you and was probably going to kill you as he took a step closer to you and grabbed you but instead he pulled you in and enveloped your body into his and you began to cry and endlessly apologise.

A long night of cuddling and reassurance will fix it. Jason got rid of the body long ago and made you tea immediately after that. "I'm sorry." You signed at Jason. "For what? It was his fault and I know you'd never do that."  It was comforting to know that Jason didn't hate you or blame you for it. Sure you were sad that one of your close friends was dead but you were also relieved that Jason was there to help.

(gif credit: prurientpuddlejumper)

Brahms Heelshire

"No, No guests allowed! That's the rules!" Brahms angrily growled. "Oh please Brahms, I haven't seen him in forever, he's just a friend from my hometown. We're strictly friends." Brahms stubbornly shook his head and stomped off leaving you alone. You groaned in annoyance and continued working on cooking dinner. A friend from your old town was in the UK for some business and wanted to come visit for a few hours but Brahms was very serious about his rules and his feelings for you - especially the rules. You knew Brahms wasn't going to follow through and let this stranger into his home but at least you tried.

During dinner Brahms spoke up, "Fine. But only for an hour." You looked up at Brahms who was clearly avoiding your gaze. "Really?" He nodded and you smiled, thanking him and going back to eating "- If you give me two goodnight kisses every night this month." You laughed and agreed to it, too excited to see Y/F/N. You called him immediately after dinner while Brahms quietly listened to the conversation through the phone, still very jealous but also trying to test you to see if you really were loyal enough to not cheat on him.

The day Y/F/N was supposed to be visiting, Brahms stayed hidden in the walls and watched as you nervously paced around near the front door waiting for Y/F/N's car to pull up. When he showed up, Brahms watched as you both excitedly hugged and talked about how much you both missed each other, you looked so happy. Usually Brahms loved seeing you smile but mostly when he was the reason you were smiling, not whoever this 'Y/F/N' is. Brahms stomping around could be heard from outside the walls where you and your friend were talking who was obviously curious about it. "There's rats in the walls, I have to clean the traps out every morning."

The hour came to an end before the three of you knew it and you were getting ready to say bye to Y/F/N. "Y/N? Before I leave I wanted to ask you something." You nodded and he put down his bag. "We've been friends for like what, 3 years, has it been? I was wondering if you wanted to go out with me. I know I have a girlfriend already but things haven't been going well for us and-" Y/F/N's voice was drowned out by your thoughts, you knew Brahms was listening and you were very worried that he was going to get the wrong idea very quickly.

"Uh Y/F/N I-" He cut you off by kissing you. It all happened so quickly that you didn't have time to process it before you pushed him off you and backed away from him by a few steps. "Y/F/N, I- I can't. I have a boyfriend." he looked confused and ran a hand through his hair. "I think you should leave." You muttered just loud enough for him to hear but he didn't move. "Y/N I thought we had something. I saw the way you used to look at me and-" "Yes, USED to. Just leave." Y/F/N looked like he was about to say something but instead he grabbed his bag and pushed past you. You waited a few seconds before hearing a scream coming from the parlour and ran over to see Brahms choking Y/F/N out on the floor.

"My Y/N! They are Mine! Not yours!" You watched as Brahms choked out your friend and waited for him to see you standing there. Y/F/N fell to the floor and Brahms turned to you. "Promise me that you don't love him." Brahms began making his way towards you. "I don't love him. I love you, Brahms." You couldn't see Brahms' real expression through that porcelain mask of his. "I promise I love you, so much more than I could ever love him." Brahms craned his neck to the side and tilted his head so he was almost at your level, pressing those porcelain lips against yours, which you kissed back in an instant.

(gif credit: thatmyerschick21)

Bo Sinclair

Bo is very possessive of you and will not let anybody else touch you, not even his brothers of course. When you came in contact with an old friend they were desperate to reunite with you and begged to see you but Bo never lets you leave Ambrose. Hell, he won't even let you out of his sight most of the time, so you had two more choices - you could either reject the idea of seeing your friend, or you could bring them to Ambrose and just pray that Bo doesn't get too jealous. When you finally built up the courage to ask Bo if a friend could visit and hopefully leave the town alive he happily obliged which was a surprise but you decided not to question it too much.

While Y/F/N is around, Bo is way more touchy. Bo will grab your ass out of nowhere and stand a little too close to you, sometimes he'll even pull you away from a conversation just to kiss you before going back to doing whatever he was doing. You knew Bo was definitely jealous and as fun as it could be to mess with him it was also dangerous. After some persuading, you finally managed to get Bo to leave the two of you alone at the house - he needed to work on his truck anyways.

Bo wasn't happy with leaving you with this random guy but he trusted that you wouldn't pull anything. You and your friend spent the rest of the day just talking and catching up, you weren't sure what Bo was so worried about - you began sneaking quick glances at the window to make sure that he wasn't standing there watching the two of you. The day was coming to an end and plans changed when Y/F/N decided to leave only to realise that his car wasn't starting and Bo was nowhere to be seen.

Having no other choice, Y/F/N decided to stay the night. You set up his makeshift bed on the couch and decided to watch a movie since Bo wasn't back yet. At first you two were just sitting together but eventually you found yourself resting your head on his shoulder as you began to get more and more tired. "Hey, Y/N?" Y/F/N whispered, not sure if you were still awake or not. You looked up at him and before you could process anything his lips were on yours. You tried to pull away but he was starting to get more aggressive, tugging at your shirt in a lousy attempt to rip the fabric as you continued trying to push him off of you.

"Hey what the fuck is this?" Y/F/N jumped off the couch and Bo was standing there, he was so red you'd mistake him for the devil. It was quick but Bo managed to grab your friend and begin beating the crap out of him while you yelled and begged him to stop - which was useless. Once Bo was sure that your friend wasn't breathing he stopped and looked at you. "You're welcome." He said bluntly before giving your friend's body one last kick in the side and throwing it over his shoulder and taking it outside.

Obviously you were nervous, was Bo going to punish you? How much of that did he see? Did he see Y/F/N come onto you or did he just assume you were cheating on him? You were a little scared and tried to wait up for Bo but you were tired and thought about calling it a night but suddenly you weren't so tired. You wanted to melt into Bo's touch but you knew he was pissed at you so you decided that going to bed was a good idea, even if that meant not actually sleeping and just staring at the ceiling until the sun blinded you.

When you woke up the next morning you were expecting Bo to either start an argument or take you to one of the few buildings in town to admire Vincent's newest work, but then it came to your attention that he'd gotten his brother Lester to dump your friend's body in the pit outside of town. As inhumane as it sounded - ignoring the fact that your boyfriend is a murderer - you weren't upset, you were glad that Y/F/N got what he deserved and Bo was glad that you felt the same way. Yes, Bo was still very annoyed but he knew it wasn't your fault.

(gif credit: stabhappyslashers)

Vincent Sinclair

Vincent definitely wasn't thrilled about the idea of a friend visiting because he was scared of losing you. No matter how many times you told Vincent you'd never leave him he never fully believed you. Sure, you're a very open minded and friendly person who managed to love him for how he looks and his job but that didn't mean that you would stay with him forever - you were bound to find someone better than him.

After a lot of coaxing and promising, Vincent finally gave in and allowed you to let your friend visit as long as you told your friend that you were in a relationship and as long as Vincent didn't have to meet this friend of yours - but that didn't stop him from keeping an eye on the two of you. He watched as you both walked around town and visited the House of Wax. Vincent found himself peering at the two of you from one of the windows on the outside.

"This place is weird. Why would you want to live in an abandoned town, anyways?" Y/F/N said, obviously very creeped out as he poked at one of the wax figures. "You've always been into a lot of weird shit, I see you haven't changed since high school." He half joked causing you to playfully roll your eyes and look at him. You were very much aware that Vincent was watching. "I'm not alone. I live here with my boyfriend."

"What boyfriend? This entire time I've been here, he hasn't shown up. I'm starting to think you're just playing hard to get." You felt sick. "W-Well, he's busy, he works and stuff." Y/F/N got closer. "What does this boyfriend of yours do?" He placed his hand on yours and you swore you heard something coming from below the two of you but Y/F/N was too focused on you to even react.

"Y/F/N, I'm serious." "So am I." He tried to kiss you but you shoved him back, knocking him into one of the figures which shattered on the floor, broken wax and bone fragments dumped on the floor. Your friend saw this and widened his eyes as he looked back at you and began to crawl away from you. "What the fuck is this? Is this a joke?" By now you were crying but your breath hitched in your throat as you saw Vincent creeping up behind Y/F/N holding two knives. You didn't speak as Y/F/N continued his rant and tried to get away from you while paying no attention to your boyfriend.

Long story short, somebody had to replace that broken wax figure and Y/F/N's visit couldn't have been anymore perfect. Vincent was upset about what'd happened but he was just glad that you were still with him even after all that. He didn't fully understand how you could still love him after that but you did and that was good enough for him.

[louiseleblancdiggory]

Speedy one night stand part 2

Part 1 here

“Ok, so do we go over our story again?”

“We did that a thousand times. Relax, they’re not the brightest.”

Aelin smiled, resting her back against the hospital chair. Even though only one day had passed, Rowan was already feeling infinitely better. His wrist still hurt like a bitch, and it would probably remain like that due to the surgery, but the rest was just some small ache.

Differently from the previous day, this morning Rowan had woken up to an empty room. Aelin had decided to go home around eleven, promising to be back in time for them to go over their plan one more time, but a part of Rowan wondered if she was actually going to be back. It wasn’t a usual situation, and now that she knew he was not dying, maybe she wouldn’t feel any responsibility over him at all.

It had worried Rowan more than he liked to admit.

And yet, she had returned today. Just a few hours after Rowan woke up, Aelin walked into his hospital room. She was her bubbly self, walking through the door while oozing so much excitement and brightness that it was like the sun lodged itself in the room. She plopped down on her usual chair, barely bothering to create small talk before jumping right back to what they had discussed the previous night. Aelin wanted everything to go perfect— had said that she had grown up with a cousin who made her quite competitive when it came to pranks.

Forty five minutes later, they had gone over the details twice, flirted shamelessly every now and then, and Rowan had the pleasure of seeing Aelin play the distressed wife in front of three different doctors.

The woman was a devil.

Rowan couldn’t help but smile.

“When do they get here?”

“You’re so impatient.” Rowan grinned, slowly turning his non-shattered wrist. “Has anyone ever told you that you’re impatient?”

“You and my cousin would be such great friends.” Aelin gave him a sweet smile.

“Sounds like a nice guy, then.”

“He isn’t.” Aelin’s sweet— and oh so fake— smile widened. “A fucking asshole, if you ask me.”

Rowan snorted, looking at the door just in time to see five guys turning around the corner and walking in the direction of the room. A diabolical smile grew on Rowan’s lips, and he turned to Aelin who had a raised brow. “Show time.”

Just like the devil Rowan thought she was, Aelin returned his smile.

———————

Honestly, she shouldn’t be this excited.

Tricking a bunch of men she had never seen in her life should not be that high in her list of priorities. And yet.

Part of her wanted to stay at the hospital yesterday, make sure that Rowan was ok during the night. Even though they had just met, Aelin felt a weird connection to him. Not love— because love at first sight is bullshit—, but she definitely cared for him as a friend. But the doctor insisted that there were no chances that Rowan’s condition would get that bad over night, and so Aelin went home.

She could barely sleep, and in the morning she rushed to get to the hospital.

Because of the prank, of course. Not because of Rowan.

And now that his friends were actually there, that the plan was actually in action, Aelin was having some small doubts.

What if they tell the hospital she’s lying? What if that doctor loses her job? What if—

“Rowan!” A blonde haired man ran through the door, followed by four others. Just like Rowan, all of the men were massive. Tall, muscular, and almost sucking all the air in the room with their presence.

They were all so focused on Rowan that none of them even paid attention to her sitting by a corner in the room, and Aelin used that time to transform the smirk on her lips into a loving smile.

“Fucking shit, Whitethorn.” The tallest of them— the only one as tall as Rowan— said. His pitch black hair was tied back in a bun, but some of it fell out of it when he ran a hand through his head. Aelin tried to remember Rowan’s descriptions of his friends, and if she was right, that was Lorcan. “One day alone and you get hit by a fucking truck.”

“Any cool scars?” One of the golden twins asked, a grin on his face. Either Fenrys or Connall, but judging by the personality and Rowan’s description of the twins, Aelin was betting on the former.

“Shut up.” The one with a buzzcut— Vaughan, she recalled— said, hitting the back of the golden twin’s head. “We tried to come as soon as possible when we heard. We didn’t want to leave you alone.”

“Oh.” Rowan said with all the innocence in the world, a smile as sweet as hers gracing his lips. “Of course I wasn’t alone, are you guys insane or something?”

“Huh?” The twins said in unison, looking at each other.

“I came with my wife.” Rowan said, the sentence sounding like a question. He let out a laugh, eyes sparkling with mirth. “Do you guys think she would just leave me alone?”

“Your fucking what.” Lorcan said very slowly after a few moments of complete silence.

Rowan looked so genuinely confused that even Aelin believed him for a second.

“Guys? Ace?” Rowan said, brows furrowing. His eyes then landed on her, and he gave her a smile that was supposed to be loving, but Aelin just thought he looked like a fiend. “Apparently they think you’re cold enough to enjoy your vacations while your husband is at the hospital.”

“I might not be the warmest, but that would have been low even for me.” Aelin said, voice charred with playful sarcasm. As if she was a magnet, all five heads immediately whipped at her direction, faces showing different levels of incredulity. “Hey, guys.”

Aelin had to bite her cheeks to keep herself from laughing. She didn’t know any human being could be that shocked and stand that still. The silence in the room was suffocating, except for Rowan who was smiling broadly now that no one was looking at him.

“Everyone is seeing the hot blonde, right?” The twin— Fenrys, she’d been right. It was just the type of comment he’d do— asked very carefully.

“I’m flattered, Fen.” Aelin said, taking some pleasure in how his jaw dropped when she said his name. She looked at each of their faces, forcing her expression to show both excitement and some confusion. “Guys? Not even a hug? I mean I know you guys are Rowan’s friends but I would expect some better welcome.”

At that, Aelin got up and walked in their direction. She hugged Vaughan and Fenrys at the same time, both as still as two pieces of stone.

She took a step back, doing the same to Gavriel and Connall. Aelin then looked at Lorcan, winking at him. “I know better than to hug you. Good to know that the change in continents doesn’t change the scowl on your face.”

They all just stared at her.

From the corner of her eye, she could see Rowan was near busting out laughing. She walked to his side, feeling the eyes of his friends following her across the room. She bent down near Rowan, kissing him on the lips before stroking his cheek with a thumb. For a split second, they shared a knowing smile, one that would look very loving to whoever was watching, but both of them knew better.

“I’m gonna go check with your doctor what time we can leave, alright? I’m gonna let you guys catch up.” Aelin said, kissing him again.

Rowan nodded, but then his eyes turned to his friends and narrowed slightly. “Sounds good, honey.”

Vaughan soundly choked.

Aelin made her best impression of being embarrassed— not by the nickname, but by the reactions of his friends.

She left the room with a final smile at the five guys, and when her face was not visible to them anymore, she finally opened the biggest grin she had ever given in her entire life.

As she walked down the hallway looking for the doctor, Rowan almost jumped out of bed just to kiss her again if only for the absolute horror in his friends’ faces. He never thought he’d seen any of them that shaken— even Lorcan was shocked.

Using the fact that all five of them were still looking at Aelin’s body disappearing among doctors, nurses, and other visitors, Rowan controlled his facial expressions and turned them to a disappointed scowl.

“What the fuck was that?” He asked when Aelin completely disappeared. “Would it kill for you guys to be nice to her? It was never an issue, what the fuck happened?”

“Bro.” Connall was the first to tear his eyes away from the door.

“Rowan, I don’t know how to say this gently…” Gavriel started, voice calm and cautious as always.

“You must have hit your head really hard because you’re not fucking married.” Lorcan, on the other hand, had no problem just saying what came to his mind.

“What?” Rowan asked, dumbfounded.

“Man, some hot crazy chick is pretending to be your wife.” Fenrys was smiling, but his whole expression screamed terrified. “Holy fuck, some hot crazy chick is pretending to be Rowan’s wife.”

“Haha, very funny.” Rowan said, relaxing. “Is this why you treated Ace like that? A prank?”

“Her name is Ace.” Vaughan said, the only one still visibly shocked.

“Crazy girl name.” Fenrys added solemnly. Connall nodded profusely.

“Her name is Aelin, and you guys know that. We have been together for over a year not, married for a few months.” Rowan was trying so, so hard not to laugh.

The guys looked at each other, different degrees of worry washing they expressions.

“Rowan, you really have to understand that—“

“Understand what?” Aelin interrupted what Gavriel was saying, causing all of the guys to jump and scream.

At that, Rowan couldn’t contain his laughter. He was laughing so hysterically that not even Aelin managed to keep a straight face and started chuckling too.

“What the fuck was that?” Rowan said between laughs, smiling up at Aelin as she approached his bed even though he was speaking to his friend.

“When is his birthday?” Fenrys ignored Rowan’s question, eyes narrowing at Aelin as she rested against Rowan.

“January twentieth-first.” Aelin said, brows furrowing in confusion. “What the hell is this?”

“Favorite color.” Connall dismissed her question.

“Green.”

“His pet’s name.” Gavriel asked much more politely than the others, but suspicion was palpable in his words.

“We don’t have a pet.”

“What is he studying?” Vaughan finally looked more wary than fucking shocked.

“He’s studying to become an engineer. STEM, then? I don’t know, I’m an arts and humanities major. I don’t understand that shit.”

The guys looked at each other again before Lorcan’s eyes dropped on Aelin. “Mom’s name. Ex girlfriend’s name. Favorite movie. Favorite song. Dick size.”

Rowan choked when he heard the last sentence, but Aelin simply smiled. “Anya. Are you talking about Lyria or Remelle? The Godfather and Patience by the Guns n’ Roses. I will not be discussing my husband’s dick size with his best friend.”

“Holy fuck.” Vaughan breathed.

“Give me your phone.” Lorcan said, even more suspicious now.

Aelin raised a brow, but took the phone out of her pocket. She stole a glance at Rowan, but he was just as confused as her.

“Call the first person in your favorites.”

Oh, fuck.

It had been fun while it lasted, and Rowan was about to get his ass beaten by his friends even though he was still in a hospital bed.

But Aelin simply unlocked her phone for everyone to see, went to her contacts and called the second person in her favorites. She raised her eyes from the phone to smile sweetly at Lorcan. “Rowan is the first.”

Lorcan’s jaw clenched minimally, as if Aelin had just passed a test she was supposed to fail. Now, just like the rest of his friends, Lorcan looked expectantly ate the phone on top of Rowan’s legs. Aelin had put it on speaker, and the only sound in the room was their breathing and the dialing sound.

“Hey, babe.” A female voice answered, soft and warm. “What can I help you with?”

“I don’t know, actually.” Aelin raised her face to Lorcan, and she looked so beautiful that the smile that grew on Rowan’s face was genuine. “Why did I call her?”

“Is she married?” Lorcan asked loudly so the girl on the phone would hear.

“What did he say?” She asked anyways.

“Lorcan asked if I am married.” Aelin raised the phone to her lips so her friend could hear her better.

“Uhm, yeah?” Her friend laughed. “Aren’t you married to his best friend for a few months now? What type of question is this?”

Aelin smiled smugly at his friends, and Rowan made his best impression of pissed off husband. In reality, all he wanted was to be alone with Aelin and kiss her for her geniality.

She wasn’t kidding when she said she was competitive when it came to pranks.

“Hey, what’s up, Lys. Is that Ace?” A man sounded through the phone.

“Yeah.” Lys answered.

“Is Rowan ok?” The man asked casually, and even Rowan was surprised by that.

Turns out Aelin had been a few steps ahead of him.

“I’m fine.” Rowan answered, trying to sound casual. “But apparently my friends decided to be assholes even though I’m already suffering.”

Aelin snorted, resting her back against his chest.

“What are they doing?” The guy asked and Rowan could hear the smile on his voice. Even though the voice tone was completely different, the man sounded so much like Aelin that it could only be her cousin since she didn’t have siblings.

“Pretending they don’t know Ace.”

“I would also pretend I don’t know my cousin if I could. Disgraceful woman.” He grumbled. “She must be loving the attention, though.”

“Fuck off.” Aelin snapped at the same time Rowan laughed. She turned her head to him, eyes narrowing with enough emotion that Rowan knew she was being genuine. He just smiled, giving her a quick kiss before turning to the phone again.

“Me and Lys gotta go, but we’ll see you this weekend for dinner, right?”

“Yep.” Rowan knew nothing of it, but now he was knee deep into his lie so backing out wasn’t an option anymore.

“Oh, and Ace, Lysandra says the airline just sent your ticket back to Terrasen to the apartment.” Aedion announced before hanging up, leaving the comment hanging in the air.

Aelin heard sharp intakes of breath, and raised her head to see all men staring at her dumbfounded.

“What?” She asked innocently, resting once again against Rowan. His hand sneaked up to the back of her head, massaging her scalp. Even though she tried to play it cool, her heart was hammering inside her chest— both because of how big the lie had just become and because of Rowan’s touch against her skin. Her whole back was against his side, and Aelin hoped he thought the racing heart was due to the lie, not due to him.

“Very well, Ace.” Lorcan said after a moment of prolonged silence. “We are so sorry for the prank. Why don’t we all go out to dinner to pay you back.”

Aelin was gonna vomit her heart. All the guys looked at Lorcan, and even Rowan’s hand stilled against her hair.

And yet she just forced a smile on her face, nodding her head. “Sounds amazing.”

Rowan’s hand in the back of her head massaged now her neck, reassuring her everything was ok.

But that definitely wasn’t the sentiment on his friends’ faces.

Oh, fuck.

.

.

.

.

.

.

A/N: I’m sorry for such a small update for this story, but I’m trying to write some Valentine’s day oneshots but I wanted to continue this one a little! I’ll probably to a final part three for it sometime!

Tags:

@in-love-with-caramel-macchiato @jlinez @courtofjurdan @firestartsandseneschals @ladywitchling @lexflame @sleeping-and-books @annejulianneh111 @perseusannabeth @linshryver @mu-si-ca-l @camilamartinezdunne @dank-queen7 @minaidss @starborn-faerie-queen @booksofthemoon @loveofbooksandwine @jesstargaryenqueen @bluejaberry @multifandommessblog @yesdreamblog @superspiritfestival @ireallyshouldsleeprn @woollycat22 @julemmaes @claralady @abookishfreak @faerie-queen-fireheart @morganofthewildfire @queen-of-glass @heirofthenightcourt @booksbqueen @heirofthrnightcourt004 @fromthelibraryofemilyj @rowaelinismyotp @fromthelibraryofemilyj

* tags in bold don’t allow me to tag

[polishksiezniczka]

Monsignor | Camerlengo Patrick McKenna x Reader

You meet il camerlengo for the first time at Mass, and he soon becomes captivated by you.

My first full-length oneshot! Sort of a slow burn but with some delicious fluff at the end. Please let me know if you have any requests or ideas for future works! 1.8k words

You had recently moved to Rome, your next diplomatic assignment being the US Embassy to the Holy See. The new challenges of your position were taxing, but you were proud of the work you did for your fellow citizens.

Being the good Catholic you were, you went to Mass as often as you could. And when in Rome—which boasted more than 900 churches—it was your goal to visit as many as you could. Although you had been living in the city for only a week or two, you had visited several parishes closer to your apartment to see if one appealed to you.

Today you decided to go to St. Peter’s Basilica for early morning service, hoping the crowds wouldn’t be as large. Aware of the Vatican’s strict dress code, you decided on a lovely vintage chiffon dress you had recently scored at a chic consignment shop. Its light coral color brought out the Y/E/C hues in your eyes, and it elegantly graced your figure while still leaving much up to the imagination. You paired it with sensible pumps and a loose white cardigan. You were feeling springlike today, it being a warm Sunday in April.

While you had visited the Vatican several times already on official diplomatic visits, you hadn’t yet as one of the faithful. As you silently made your way to the chapel, you marveled at the beautiful art surrounding you—the work of masters.

You chose to sit near the center aisle a few rows from the altar. The chapel quickly began to fill up; in a matter of minutes, you were surrounded by a trio of devout Italian nonne, clad in all-black, and a gaggle of starry-eyed Korean tourists.

As the processional music began, you felt your body ease into a state of peace. The ancient rituals of the Church always soothed you; they had not changed since you were a child and so provided a sense of comfort amidst an unpredictable world. You sang along, losing yourself in the beautiful melody.

When the hymnal ended, you lifted your gaze from your songbook to the altar. Your heart stopped as your eyes fell upon him—quite possibly the most beautiful man you had ever laid eyes on.

He was young, no more than 40 years of age. His hair was a rich auburn color, swept neatly into a well-groomed combover; you couldn’t help but admire how perfectly it framed his handsome face. His eyes, a lovely shade of blue, were mesmerizing. They reminded you of cerulean pools, clear and bright. His brows were furrowed in concentration, making him appear serious. His jawline was set in a strong, dignified way, sloping attractively down to his chin; there you could just make out a slight cleft. For all you knew, he was one of the marble statues carved by the same masters who had designed the basilica you were standing in.

Who was this man? That’s Father to you! you scolded yourself. You were in Church. And not just any Church—the Church! You tried to suppress your nascent infatuation, but you quickly succumbed to it, your eyes selfishly dragging down the rest of the priest’s body. He wore a white surplice over his black robes, highlighting the alluring musculature of his shoulders. His collar was a burst of white at the base of the column of his throat. His hands were clasped together in prayer in front of his chest, and you watched his eyes squeeze in concentration as he prayed along silently with the cardinal who stood beside him. His whole demeanor radiated safety, comfort, and protection.

You couldn’t help but stare, the chants of the prayer fading into the background. You couldn’t even look away. Even when he turned to look at you. You observed his eyes widening ever so slightly, his brow arching in curiosity. Regrettably, he seemed to catch himself after a few seconds, quickly averting his eyes away from you and back to his superior. The moment was so brief, you seriously doubted its authenticity. But there he was.

Mass passed by in a haze, your attempts at concentration all but shot. You tried to restrain yourself, but somehow your gaze always settled on him. It wasn’t until the pews ahead of you began to slowly shuffle toward for Communion that you momentarily became sensible again. As you stood and made your way toward the altar, your hands began to perspire. You ran through the expected response over and over again, worried you might choke on your own heart, which had invariably lodged itself in your throat.

Just as you had expected, he was even more beautiful up close. Like an angel. You were so taken by his handsomeness, his kind smile, his spellbinding eyes that you felt your chest tighten. Your eyes suddenly found the marble floor inexplicably fascinating.

He held up the thin wafer. “Il corpo di Cristo.”

You peered up at him from beneath your lashes and met his kind cerulean eyes again. They beamed down at you, joy and curiosity radiating from them. You quickly lost your ability to speak, momentarily dumbstruck. He must have sensed this, as a smile quirked the corner of his lips; you thought you were imagining things when the faintest chuckle reached your ears. If only you knew what he was thinking!

“Amen,” you whispered hurriedly, accepting the wafer in your trembling hands. You bowed to him and quickly stepped aside to genuflect before the altar. As you made your way to back to your pew, you couldn’t help but sneak a glance over your shoulder at him. As you expected, he was dutifully administering communion to the remaining parishioners. You sighed softly as you retook your place and knelt down.

Of course that’s what he’s doing! you scolded yourself. For the love of God, he’s a priest—why would he have feelings for you? Silly, foolish girl.

Your thoughts consumed you for the rest of Mass, even during the last processional hymnal. If only you had noticed the young priest’s longing glance at you as he walked past.

After the processional ended, you prepared to leave, but your shame got the best of you. As a penance you knelt and said five Hail Mary’s to atone for your distraction.

As you left your pew, you noticed how quiet the church had become. A few people remained, some finishing their prayers, others snapping pictures of the ornate altar. As you walked to the back of the chapel, you observed a small group of parishioners clustered near the back, no doubt socializing among themselves. You had planned to walk around them, but the group suddenly parted, putting you directly on course for him. The priest who had awoken in you a reaction so powerful, so complete, you couldn’t even think clearly.

The two parishioners he was speaking with said their farewells; then, he turned and noticed you. As your eyes met for the third time that morning, his face broke into a radiant smile. You approached him slowly, a blush creeping up your cheeks. You did your best to hold his gaze and maintain an air of confidence after your embarrassing conduct during the liturgy of the Eucharist. You stopped just short of a foot away from him, subconsciously holding your breath.

“Buongiorno, signorina,” he said. His voice was so velvety, so delightful, it practically overwhelmed your senses. Being so close allowed you to better study his chin’s adorable cleft, making you swoon. “Non ti ho mai visto prima a San Pietro. Stai visitando la nostra bellissima basilica mentre sei in vacanza?” His presence was oh so alluring—you couldn’t help but relax as air suddenly filled your lungs.

“Buongiorno, monsignor,” you replied carefully. “ No, ma sono nuovo a Roma. Vedi, mi sono trasferito qui due settimane fa. Lavoro per l'ambasciata degli Stati Uniti.”

He smiled knowingly, his eyes alight with intrigue. “So, you are an American?” The soft, gentle lilt of his accent sent a shiver up your spine. How was it possible that this man’s normal pleasantries were enough to provoke such a response in you?

“Yes, I am.”

“In that case, may I be the first to welcome you to Vatican City.” He bowed his head slightly in deference to you. “I am Father Patrick McKenna, il camerlengo to his Holiness. May I ask your name?”

“Y/F/N, Y/F/N Y/L/N.”

The camerlengo’s smile widened, and you momentarily glimpsed his dazzling white teeth. “Y/N…” he repeated thoughtfully. You cherished the way your name rolled off his tongue. “How lovely. Named after Saint Y/N if I am not mistaken?”

“Yes, Father,” you shyly responded. “I was raised in a very devout home.” You quickly averted your gaze to the floor, worrying that you had revealed too much about yourself. You certainly weren’t prepared for the camerlengo’s next remark:

“I…I hope to see you next weekend.” He spoke softly, tenderly.

Your eyes shot up to his face, eagerly finding his own. The camerlengo’s eyebrows were raised expectantly; a gentle smile graced his handsome features.

“Of course, Father. It was such a lovely Mass.” You tried to convey as much sincerity as you could with your voice.

He took your hand in his and cradled it, making your heart flutter even more rapidly in your chest. “I’m glad you thought so. In the meantime, do not make yourself a stranger.” For a moment, his eyes were expectant, and he nodded solemnly—as if holding you to a serious pledge—but his fervent expression quickly melted back into one of compassion again. “You are welcome anytime.”

Your cheeks took on a lovely pink color at his words as you beamed at him.“Grazie, Padre.” Reluctantly you added, “I believe I should be going now...” Your eyes flashed over your shoulder, subtly indicating a group of nonne eager to speak with him. “I would not want to keep you all to myself.” You shyly lifted your gaze to the camerlengo again.

He chuckled softly, his eyes glinting with mirth at your remark. “May God bless you, Miss Y/L/N. Arrivederci.” As he said this, he traced the sign of the cross on your forehead, the scent of him filling your nostrils briefly. He smelled clean and masculine with a delightful hint of spiciness, which you immediately recognized to be frankincense. You savored the warmth of his skin on yours.

“Addio, monsignor,” you whispered breathlessly.

You found the courage to look into the camerlengo's spellbinding eyes once more before you turned to leave. As you exited the sacred space, you smiled to yourself, his words reverberating within you: do not be a stranger.

"Never, Father," you whispered. ¤

Translations

nonne = "grandmothers"

Il corpo di Cristo = "the body of Christ"

Non ti ho mai visto prima a San Pietro. Stai visitando la nostra bella chiesa durante le vacanze? = "I haven’t seen you before at St. Peter’s. Are you visiting our beautiful basilica while on holiday?"

No, ma sono nuovo a Roma. Vedi, mi sono appena trasferito qui due settimane fa. Lavoro con l'ambasciata degli Stati Uniti. = "No, but I am new to Rome. You see, I recently moved here a few weeks ago. I work for the US Embassy."

@seraferna @lemairepstuff

[alwaysbeliev]

Oh, Arthur

pairing: Arthur x Reader

summary: Reader lives a high society life and is tired of it. When they meet a man so intriguing they can't help but let him steal a place at their dinner table, they start to hope that, maybe, there is something else to their life. Instead, they hurt him more than they may ever know.

word count: 3026

warnings: non-explicit NSFT, vague descriptions of NSFT

notes: I pulled the prompt for this from a list of phrases. I knew the general idea of what I wanted to do with it, and it took on its own life. Congratulations, Reader, you're Mary 2.0.

link on AO3

Noonday sun pierced between the curtains of the front room. The chatter of the small tea party around you was a distant hum, your focus on the spoon you held in your hand. Absentmindedly, you stirred the sugar into your tea, hardly aware of the soft clinking against the cup. Your mind was elsewhere.

Pressed against the wall, chest heaving, he kissed along your jawline and down your neck, pausing to nibble at the soft space where your neck met your shoulders. You couldn’t help but let out a soft gasp, lips parted, hands gripping the sleeves of his shirt. He smiled against your skin and exhaled, making you shiver. 

The sound of your name caused your head to snap up to attention.

“Did you hear what Mrs. Hearst asked you?” Your mother stared at you expectantly. The look in her eyes was begging you to not embarrass her, but you had truthfully missed what the woman in question had asked. Heat rushed to your cheeks and you quickly pulled an apologetic smile.

“I’m so sorry,” you said graciously, dipping your head slightly, “my mind is with the clouds today. Would you mind repeating your question?”

“Oh, I do hope we’re not boring you.” Mrs. Hearst pursed her lips, accentuating the creased lines along her face that had no doubt been created solely from this repeat action. “As I was saying, my darling Charlotte has traveled to the West and is already meeting many men. She has already had three suitors calling at the door! Her brother is beside himself with contempt. Perhaps you, too, would like to go west? Unless there is someone here you have not shared with us?”

Her question hung in the air. The room was full of your mother’s friends and their children, though the rest of them were still too young to have to worry about meeting a potential spouse. You hated this conversation topic. It was always bound to come up when you had tea with these people, it was expected now after more than a few months, and you were tempted to start feigning ill when they came around.

Truthfully, you had met someone. He was the reason you were barely paying attention today. But if your family knew the type of man he was, that you were consorting with him, that you were fucking him… It was a subject you could never mention. It would ruin the family, and that was far too important a reputation to destroy. So, instead, with a barely concealed tartness, you replied, “I have not yet met someone, no, but perhaps I will write your Charlotte and help myself to her leftovers.”

A sharp gasp rang collectively around the room. Even the youngest of the children froze in their quiet playing, turning to see what had caused such a reaction among the adults, and your mother looked downright furious. It was rude to say, you knew that, but it was hot in this room and you were tired of being under a microscope once a week. There was someplace else you would much rather be.

“Perhaps you could do with some fresh air,” your mother hissed, her attempt to sound concerned for your sudden outburst not going unnoticed by some of the others. “The heat must be getting to your head.”

You gratefully took her invitation to leave, excusing yourself to the room in general. As you pushed back your chair and stood, you saw the nasty look Mrs. Hearst gave your mother and felt just a twinge of guilt; it wasn’t her fault you misbehaved. You were simply overwhelmed and didn’t appreciate being pushed around.

The air felt better in the hallway, but you carried on to the back door, stepping out onto the modest deck your father had built last summer. “For entertaining,” he had claimed, but it was primarily used for poker games amongst the men. Bright light hit your face and you blinked rapidly for a moment to adjust. It wasn’t much cooler out here, but the air moved and provided a relief from the prying words.

Taking in a deep breath, you closed your eyes and tilted your chin up, soaking in the shade and breathing in the summer air. Birds twittered in the air around you, fluttering from tree to tree. Carriages pulled by horses trundled by in front of the house, the cobblestones making a distinct clattering sound against the carefully designed wheels. Squirrels scrambled up and down tree trunks in the meticulously landscaped yard.

Flat on your back, you hungrily drank in the appearance of the man hanging over you, desperate to take in every detail of his face. His honey brown hair fell over his forehead, almost reaching his eyes as he trapped your wrists on either side of your head. His intense blue-green eyes matched the hunger in yours as he locked gazes with you. He had stubble on his chin that had been scratching your skin deliciously.

“Are you ready?” he asked, voice rough with impatience and need. You couldn’t even muster up the words to answer him, nodding vigorously as he kneeled closer to you. 

“I hope you’re happy!”

The shrill sound of your mother’s voice snapped you out of your reverie. You hoped the redness on your cheeks could be excused by the temperature of the air.

“I hope she’s happy, sticking her nose into peoples’ personal business like that,” you rebutted. 

“I won’t be hosting next week’s tea,” she snapped back. “And I have been very clearly not invited to the next party at the Clemens’. I don’t know where you got this sharp tongue, but you had better put it back! And quick!” With that, she whirled back inside, no doubt to try and garner sympathy from the remaining stragglers. Knowing her, she would be reinvited to the party just in time to get a new evening gown for it. Your father would be relieved at not having to go, and would grumble to you afterwards about having been forced to go anyway.

The predictability of this life was draining. You were exhausted from the parties, the expectations, the demands. Was it not enough to simply exist? Surely there was more to everything than the finest silks, the most expensive meat, the purest horses.

On an excursion you had enjoyed much more than your mother, you had seen a man outside the grocery in Strawberry. He was tall, rugged, and the most handsome you had ever seen. You had made eye contact and he raised his eyebrows, almost challenging you to approach. It had been difficult to stop yourself from smiling as you ducked your head, attempting to return your focus to the trinkets your mother was pointing out to you. His gaze continued to burn a hole in the back of your head.

Later that evening, you ate dinner in the hotel lodge, listening to your mother tear apart the decor of the room and flavor of the food. It was the cheapest meal you had ever eaten in your life, you were sure, but by far the most filling. She excused herself to bed early, leaving you to finish alone. Out of nowhere, the man from earlier slid into her vacant seat, setting a plate of his own at her place.

“Excuse me--” You tried to sound indignant, but he interrupted you.

“Forgive me if I misread your look earlier,” he drawled, “but I took it as an invitation. And I think it’d be mighty rude of you to decline, seein’ as I already have my food.”

The bluntness caused you to laugh, almost involuntarily, and he had been allowed to stay. You got along almost immediately. He was charming, his laugh deep and hearty, his manners surprising you. Up close, you could see the scars on his face, the dirt and grime of a man who rode a horse most of his days, the tanned skin from being outside for hours. He introduced himself as Arthur, but when you asked for his last name, he refused to give it. There was a strange air of secrecy to him that drew you in and made you lose track of time.

Before you knew it, the lights in the dining room were being extinguished. The waiter approached and apologized, but they were closing up and politely invited you to enjoy wine refreshment in the lobby. Nerves suddenly returned to you and you defaulted to the upstanding citizen of society you knew how to be.

“I’m sorry, my mother must be wondering where I got to.” 

“Why? She seemed a lot more interested in getting the hell out of here.”

His lack of a filter surprised you, but you realized he was right. She hadn’t once responded to your fruitless efforts to lighten the mood and find the positives. It was clear she had no interest in remaining here much longer. She was probably already asleep and wouldn’t notice you were missing until she was awake again.

“I got my own room.” It was Arthur’s turn to appear shy. Despite his forward statement, he almost seemed to regret it. “We could, uh, keep talkin’ there. If you wanted.”

Talking, you definitely wanted to do. You agreed, joking lightly about your honor as a single person entering the bedroom of a man, but you found yourself following him. His room was on the opposite end of the hall from yours, your mother’s right beside yours. Neither light was on. The giddiness settled in your chest and you played with the buttons on your sleeve.

Talking, you definitely did. For about five minutes. You barely had a chance to blink when Arthur was suddenly kissing you. And you kissed him back. It wasn’t much longer until neither of you were dressed. 

It had been three months since that first meeting. You had since learned much more about Arthur. He was an outlaw, running with Dutch van der Linde’s gang. He had been for a long time, and you found out after seeing a wanted poster with names of gang members listed on it. You had learned his last name, too. Morgan. He spilled everything when you brought it up after your third encounter, clothes piled on the floor, blankets mussed up around your two bare forms on the bed. Despite his appearance, Arthur was well-spoken and kind, and he was always aware of your feelings.

Standing on the porch, you wanted nothing more than to see him again, the itch to get away driving you mad. Torn, you debated running away again. Nobody would question your borrowing of a horse, you knew that wouldn’t be difficult, but you dreaded the interrogation you would have to be submitted to upon your return. The summer heat was starting to get to your head.

“A-Arthur,” you moaned, hands clenched tightly on ruffled sheets, not even caring who might hear. The pace was driving you towards the edge, you could feel the build-up in your core. He showed no signs of slowing down as he thrust. His own pleasure was clear on his face and it only served to push you closer.

You nearly left a cloud of dust behind you as you left the porch for a horse. It would be worth the interrogation.

----------------------------

You were barely in the door of the hotel room before you were grabbing at the cowboy’s shirt, tugging him closer to you and kissing him. You felt the chuckle in his chest more than you heard it as he shut the door.

“Slow down, darlin’,” he said between each kiss. “We just got here, there ain’t no rush.”

“Missed you,” you breathed. Your hands pawed desperately, almost like they were trying to uncover some distraction from the turmoil inside. Arthur hadn’t caught on yet; this was the normal interaction. Sex was first, the talking came second. The grin on his face was intoxicating, drawing you in, and you felt your entire body flush.

“I missed you, too.” His hands held either side of your face as his lips came crashing against yours. You couldn’t hold him tight enough, he wasn’t close enough, you wanted so much more. Every place he touched burned, his finger tips at the base of your head, his thumbs brushing your cheeks, it was overwhelming. You fumbled with the buttons on his shirt. He paused, gently grabbing your hands in his. “Slow. Down.”

“I can’t,” you whined, the heat in you bubbling to the surface. “I need this. More. You.”

Arthur hesitated. He studied your face for a moment, looking for...something. With a heart-dropping change in expression, he scoffed, “I’m a goddamn fool. Jesus..” He dropped your hands and stepped away, taking his hat off to run a hand through his hair.

“What..?”

You were still breathing heavily, your body confused by the direction change, hands still searching for something to grab. Brow furrowed, you tried to close the gap between the two of you, but he refused to look at you anymore. You drew a shaky breath to steady yourself.

“Arthur, what is it?”

“I can’t believe this.” The tone of his voice was difficult to place. There was the obvious anger, which you didn’t understand, but there was also a strange touch of sadness. It almost sounded like he was beating himself up about something. “I should’ve known after Mary…”

Mary Linton. You had heard of her, he had mentioned her before, but beyond knowing it was a failed relationship, you had little to no context for her. It had ended on mutual terms, you thought. It still wasn’t enough for you to piece together what was going through his head. You had both been ready to go, this was how it was, you were going to have to wash your underthings when you got home just from the first five minutes.

“Arthur,” you finally snapped, “what’s wrong?”

He stiffened up. You could see his fists clench and unclench before his entire body relaxed and he turned, resigned, to face you. The look of defeat and poorly hidden hurt drove a knife into your chest. 

“We can’t keep doing this,” he said. His voice was heavy, laced with context you didn’t know.

“Doing what?”

“This. Sneakin’ off to some hotel, screwing each other, and then going our separate ways like nothin’ matters. Like I don’t matter.”

A pit grew in your gut. Part of you knew what he was saying, but you believed it was deeper than that. Surely, there was more to it than that.

“You do matter,” you managed to say. “You matter to me.”

He laughed, short and derisive, disbelieving. Shaking his head, he made eye contact, gaze sharp. 

“All I’m good for is pretending like you’re standing up to your parents.” He shifted his weight, hands coming to rest on his belt, a comfortable position for him. A safe position. “Mommy and Daddy don’t know where you are or what you’re doin’. All you’re doin’ is using me. And I ain’t gonna let it happen again.”

You expected tears to come to your eyes. It was hurtful, what he said, and absolutely not the truth. Instead, anger flared in your chest, rising to your head and making you lightheaded again. 

“You’re not just some toy--”

“Oh, I’m not just some toy? How very kind of you to say. Tell me, what did you and Mommy fight about this time? Because you know she’s gonna forget about it before you get home.”

The pattern was suddenly clicking together in your head. Each time you had met up with Arthur was directly after your mother had done something to drive you over the edge. It wasn’t always an argument, but this was your escape. In some secret fashion, this activity was better than just reading a book or meeting with your friends for an hour of gossip time. You were able to let off physical pressure and nobody else knew what you were doing. 

Silent for too long, Arthur shook his head and moved to go.

“I hope y’all figure it out,” he told you. “Don’t bother writin’.”

“Wait!” you shouted, much louder than you needed to. He stopped, hand on the doorknob. “It wasn’t-- It wasn’t like that. I care about you, Arthur.”

“Please,” he muttered, a quiet venom lacing his words, “don’t flatter yourself. You’d better get cleaned up before you go home.” A snap of the door was all he left behind.

You felt empty, hollow. There was a strange aching in your chest now, the brief anger gone as quickly as it had arrived, leaving the dull truth of what he had said. You hadn’t wanted to admit it, you had connected so well with him. He was a friend, you rationalized, you had felt more than just a physical connection. You had an understanding. You couldn’t muster up the energy to cry. You had fucked up, you knew that now, but it was too late. Arthur made it very clear he didn’t want anything to do with you anymore. 

For a while, you laid on the bed, watching the light shift around the room as the sun descended, eventually bathing the room in an orange glow. You knew the sun would be gone soon, and your mother would raise a huge fuss if you weren’t home for dinner. Gathering your courage, you left the room, thanking the clerk at the desk as you handed back the key. He had a look on his face that you tried to avoid reading into. 

You returned to your normal life with a heavy heart that night. Arthur Morgan, the outlaw with a huge bounty on his head, had come into your life like a much needed sunny day. He had invited himself in and you welcomed him with open arms. But you used him as an umbrella, shielding yourself from the storm that was your existence and identity, sure that somehow, this would protect you. You pushed him too far, you realized that now, and, full of holes, he left your life, tired and worn out.

[rosescries]

What was black and everyone else’s response to find out out the news of the baby? Was Black and perhaps the others insistent in being involved or involved at all?

Shocked first of all, that's the last thing anyone expected to find out. But they were accepting, and of course wanted to be involved.

They'll definitely be one of the most protected kids around though, with Black, Red, and Edge looking out for them.

As for the individual reactions:

Black would be in complete shock at first, but would come around quickly. He still would be a bit awkward (since he is reconnecting with Mutt and doesn't want to be shut out again), but he definitely would want to be apart of his little niece/nephew's life. And he would adore them when they arrived. He'd also be there to help raise them, having had a bit of experience raising Mutt from infancy. Mutt and Mc definitely appreciate the help.

Sans is actually pretty nervous, mostly because he doesn't know what to expect. There's still a chance everyone may be forcefully brought back to their own universes (not by his choice or doing, but the machine starting up again and doing that itself without his control), and he doesn’t want their family broken up. And he has to wonder, would the kid be pulled back with Mutt? Would they stay with Mc? Or would they be erased from existence like a certain scientist? He doesn't know and doesn't want to find out.

Papyrus is rather excited! He loves kids and he's happy to help the two parents in whatever why they'll let him! He and Blue often end up being one of the go-to babysitters (or at least who Mutt goes to to tire the kid out), absolutely cooing over them. Definitely one of the fun (but responsible!) uncles that the kid can have fun playing with.

Blue is kind of the same as Papyrus, definitely excited to have a new babybones running around, but perhaps a bit more subdued and nervous than Papyrus is. He's still a fun uncle to play with when their energy is a bit too high, but he's also pretty worried about their future. Kind of like Sans, since he is aware of what's going on- sort of. But he's still happy for them and would also very happy to be a sort of teacher to the kid too when they get a bit older, a fun one though!

Stretch is pretty nervous to be around a baby, he doesn't really know what to do with one or how to handle them. But once he got that figured out, he'd be pretty charmed by them. Definitely sneaks them sweets and will happily read to them for nap/bedtime if they asked. (Though like Sans he's also a bit worried about their fate if the machine ever decides to start working on its own again. He tries not to think too much about it)

Red is definitely wary, but generally knows how to handle a kid. He'd be like that cool uncle that texts once a year and gives all the cool presents/cash, but around more often and a bit closer. The kid would definitely grow on him and he'd humor them a lot. He may also teach them some mechanics if they'd let him, along with how to properly fight if Mutt and Mc won't dust him for it. Or Edge and Black.

Edge is reluctant, but definitely accepting! He look into every child development and parenting book like he was the one having a kid, just to be prepared. He'd also definitely be one of the ones helping Mutt and Mc set up a nursery, wherever they choose to have it. He's well prepared and surprisingly gentle with the kid, who honestly managed to steal his heart more than he'll ever let on.

Grey absolutely adores the kid, loves them to death. He does a lot of research into what kids can and can't eat at any age, and definitely has a lot of treats for them. Going to see Grey is a bit like going to Grandma's house, treats whenever and general freedom along with a lot of affection and hugs.

Lunar's in the same boat as Grey mostly. He adores the kid too, they're so small and fragile! Look at them! They almost fit in his hand! He's right beside Grey in figuring out their dietary needs for when the kid comes over, but sticks to it a little more strictly than Grey. He definitely still showers them with affection though, piggy back rides with him are the kid's favorite!

[apiratewhopines]

I’m going to alternate artwork so we get leather-clad Killian and fancy dress up Killian.

Midnight

Chapter 3 — The Godfather

Summary: In which our heroine accepts the finer things in life

Chapter 3 of 7 on AO3

“He gave her things that she was needin’

He gave her a home built of gold and steel

A diamond car with platinum wheels”

-Minnie The Moocher, Cab Calloway

The creeping pace her warden set was nerve-racking. She wasn’t sure if it was her imagination or if every eye in the place was watching their slow procession through the ballroom. Finally exiting the room, they paused in the hallway and Emma said resignedly, “Let’s get this over with.”

“I’ve had my eye on you from the moment you walked in,” the other man commented, nodding to passersby with no hint of distress. “You should have known better than to think you could escape unnoticed.”

“Well, I thought if I left quietly, no one would be the wiser,” she replied, smiling at him with a hopeful kind of chagrin. “You can’t blame a girl for trying.”

“Don’t apologize, my dear. There are three of us in rebellion against this entertainment if you want to call it that. I think I may turn down all future invitations from Regina if this is the torture we will be subject to…” Grabbing her arm softly, he started steering them through the throng still attempting to find a place in the ballroom.

She was shocked they weren’t heading to the front entrance. The man, who had yet to introduce himself, was leading her down a back hallway. Moments later, he paused in front of a closed door. “You do play bridge, yes?”

Emma hadn’t played the game since she was a teenager staying with Granny, but as usual, the lessons the older woman taught her were going to save her from a terrible fate. “Yes, though I’m a bit rusty. But why me?”

“You’re charming, you’re bored, and you have the face of someone who wouldn’t trump your partner’s ace,” he explained with a breezy smile. Placing his finger to his lips to hush any further conversation, he pressed an ear to the door and then gave two quick raps against the frame. Taking one more second, he then opened it and ushered her in.

Upon entering, she saw two occupants huddled by the fireplace, which blazed happily with a roaring fire in opposition to the warm night. Immediately, his pause made sense as she noticed a faint smudge of lipstick on the smooth skin of the man’s face.

“Lancelot, Guinevere, allow me to introduce Madam—I’m sorry, I don’t think I caught your name.”

Scrambling, she said the first thing that popped into her mind. “Jones.”

“Ah, Madam Jones, I’m Sidney Glass, your knight in shining armor for the evening. This is Guinevere Soberano and Lancelot du Lac, your fellow insurrectionists.” Her knight joked before adding, “Lance is the most dangerous man in the room, so watch yourself.”

Seeing how the tall, handsome man took his time sizing her up, she had a feeling she knew what made him dangerous. The fashionable lines of his tuxedo did little to hide his muscular build, and while he wasn’t the sexiest man she’d met that evening, she knew if they had met on any other night of her life, he would have been. She could tell by how his eyes continued to seek her out that he wasn’t immune to her charms either. It should have made her feel better considering she’d been in the same outfit for nearly two days and her hair was still wet from her dash through the thunderstorm. Instead, it made her feel tired.

Taking a seat with trepidation, she tried to hide her feelings of discomfort. She was the one who ran when offered a cozy landing place, so now she needed to play the hand she was dealt. Literally. Watching as Sidney took over as dealer, she asked, “What are we playing for? Bragging rights?”

“How about our normal stakes? Five dollars a point?”

Eyes wide, she calculated if she remembered the game correctly, there would be thousands of dollars exchanging hands tonight. If only a fraction of that money came her way, she may be able to get out of this dress and fill up her tank so she could hit the road and resume her search. She refused to think about what she would do if she didn’t win. Granny had been a cutthroat player, so she had more than enough practice.

Lance settled in as her partner, his eyes never leaving her face as the group silently arranged their cards and planned their strategies. Her heart racing, Emma mumbled, “Two spades.”

And the game began.

Hours later, they were in the hole and she couldn’t help wishing Sidney or the other woman was her partner. Lance seemed much more interested in flirting with her than winning, and if she weren’t sure it would get her thrown out, she would have kicked him under the table for screwing up her chance to turn her luck around. Not to mention the fact that with every suggestive exchange, Guinevere’s eyes grew a little bit colder. She had a feeling the woman would make a formidable enemy.

The door to their hideaway opened to admit her former neighbor, his eyes as unnerving by firelight as they had been in the brighter gleam of the ballroom. The ever-present smirk was there in full force as he made his way to their table and planted himself between Lance and Guinevere. “Darling, why don’t you introduce me to your newest recruit?”

“Madam Jones, this is my husband Arthur Soberano, the only man on the planet who enjoys these little parties. Arthur, this is Madam Jones, a woman in need of a better bridge partner.”

“It’s so hard to concentrate on cards sometimes,” Lance murmured, his heated glance never leaving her face so no one had any doubts about what was distracting him.

Arthur observed the exchange, and the subsequent reactions, with the expression of a man who finally found his silver lining. She hoped it was catching. “Jones, eh? Would you be one of the Rhode Island Joneses?”

Pasting a bright smile on her face, she demurred. “No, but I’ve heard they’re lovely people.”

“You’re American, correct?”

“What gave it away? My abysmal accent?”

“Something like that,” Arthur responded with a smile. “So if not Rhode Island, what Jones clan do you hail from?”

“Oh, Jones is my married name. My husband is from Cambridge.”

“Of course! I should have known. I ran into Baron Jones a few years ago in Budapest, and he spoke of an American girl. How is he? Is he here tonight?”

Resisting the urge to roll her eyes, because of course there would be a Baron Jones and of course this enigmatic man would know him, she stared at her cards and hoped she sounded more convincing than she felt when she said, “No, no. He’s still in Budapest. He wasn’t feeling well enough for transatlantic travel. You know, the old trouble flaring up.”

Tsking with a hint of amusement, Arthur narrowed his eyes. “That’s too bad. Guinevere, we really must make a trip there soon. Beautiful city. Tell me, Madam Jones, did they ever finish the metro Line 1?”

For the love of all that was holy, would the man never stop with the questions? “You know how construction is…the roads are still a mess here and there.”

She knew by the way his body shifted that she had misstepped. She wasn’t sure what trap he laid, but she walked right into it. To add insult to injury, the final hand of the night went into their loss column.

Lance shook his head in defeat and pulled out his wallet. “I really must apologize, Madam Jones. I’m usually a much better player. You’ll have to let me make amends to you. Perhaps lunch tomorrow? What’s your favorite place?”

“That depends, Lance. How much money am I out tonight? I will exact revenge in corresponding measure.”

Sidney piped in with a gleeful laugh. “Four thousand dollars from each of you. Not a bad haul, if I do say so myself. But bypassing the awful concert makes the win priceless.”

Her head swam with the figure, trying to ignore the way Arthur was circling the room like a caged lion and wondering how plausible it was for a baroness not to carry cash. Surely, the nobility class had people to handle this kind of thing for them. “I’m not sure I have that much on me. I hope you’ll accept my IOU. Has anyone seen my bag?”

She saw the look Guinevere and Sidney exchanged and her stomach dropped. They wouldn’t let it go. Perhaps looking for her non-existent purse would allow her to sneak out.

“Is this it, Madam Jones?”

“Yes, thank you.” Turning around, she saw a beaded clutch she’d never laid eyes on before in Arthur’s extended hand. She hadn’t stolen a single thing in her life, and she wasn’t thrilled to start now, but desperate times called for desperate measures.

Opening it, she found a wad of cash that looked like it could bankroll a small country for a year. Shocked, her gaze flew to meet Arthur’s and he winked before departing the room.

—

No matter how hard she tried to shake him, Lance would not leave her alone. Subsequently, everyone in the entourage hung on like they had nothing better to do than tag along while she flitted around the club trying to lose them. Finally, the evening started breaking up. Large groups of people gave each other air kisses and made plans to meet at various houses for brunch the next day. Freedom was within reach if she could only make it out the front door.

They bid goodbye to their hostess, who was high on finding the supposed party crasher, an older woman they dragged from the downstairs powder room and tossed out into the night, still swearing she didn’t know anyone named Neal and claiming she was the Duchess of Longbourn.

Emma thought a silent apology to the woman and hoped karma graded on a curve.

“Allow me to wait with you until your car pulls around,” Lance said, offering his arm to help her down the steps.

“I’d hate to trouble you,” Emma ground out, her voice deepened with the effort of holding in a groan of frustration. “My chauffeur is habitually late.”

“Then I should give you a ride,” Lance countered. He had yet to let go of her arm, and she was afraid she would have to cut it off to make a clean break. “Where are you staying?”

Having no clue of the lodging situation in Misthaven, she worried about another trap under Arthur’s expectant stare. “I’ll give you three guesses.”

“The Ritz,” he immediately countered.

“Right in one! But really, I’d rather wait for my car.” When the words left her mouth, the familiar lines of a black BMW cruised down the street slowly like the driver was looking for something. Or someone. Panicked, she flashed her new admirer a dazzling smile. “On second thought, let’s get out of here.”

As Lance handed her into his sports car, she heard Guinevere’s voice muttering to Sidney, “We don’t know anything about her. She came here all alone.”

“I notice she’s not leaving alone,” Arthur replied, smile widening as he caught her eye through the window and gave her a jaunty wave.

By jumping into a car with a virtual stranger for the second time that evening, she avoided one issue but created another. Her time was running out because this charade was doomed to fail when they arrived at the hotel and there wasn’t a room for Baroness Jones. She’d have to get rid of him in the parking lot.

Unsurprisingly, considering how her night was going, it was easier said than done. Lance appeared to be a gentleman if you overlooked his tendency to have affairs with other men’s wives and wouldn’t hear of dropping her off at the entrance. Throwing his keys toward the valet stand, he made his way to the concierge desk over her protests that she had some things to handle in the lobby before heading to her room.

She closed her eyes as she heard him say, “Checking into Baroness Jones’s room.”

Here it came. The boom.

“Of course, sir. Will that be all?”

Opening one eye, she watched as the employee handed over the room card. This couldn’t be right. She must be trapped in some nightmare where her pain and humiliation hung like a knife above her head, and the anticipation of the stabbing turned out to be worse than the violent act itself.

Laughing with fake merriment, she snatched the card from Lance before he could pocket it and said forcefully, “Thank you for a lovely evening. Good night.”

“My mother always said to see a woman to her door, or my job wasn’t done.”

Unable to hide her exasperation one second longer, she asked, “Don’t you know when to go home?”

“No.” With a broad smile, he held the elevator door open while she entered and wished for death. In hindsight, her original plan of sleeping on a park bench seemed like a real winner compared to this slow torture. She wouldn’t allow herself to think about the warm bed and warmer smile she had also turned down.

Tired, annoyed, and pining for her original driver of the evening, she didn’t even try to maintain a conversation with the man beside her, her head filled with dread at the idea she was about to open the door to a hotel room occupied by the real Baroness Jones. With the resigned stride of a prisoner walking the green mile, she reached the room slower than the situation called for and leaned against the door facing Lance. With a stony expression, she said pointedly, “Look, right to the door. You did your mother proud and can go home and sleep peacefully.”

“What? No nightcap?”

“No, absolutely not. I don’t need a mother to tell me inviting a man into my hotel room in the middle of the night is a bad idea. Go home.”

Laughing, he reached out and pushed her hair away from her face. “You’re magnificent.”

“I’m also married,” she bit out, barely resisting the urge to slap his hand away. There was something riveting about a man with an overabundance of confidence, but she refused to be charmed. If she were going to give in to any urges, she would have done it with the person behind Door Number One.

“So I’ve heard. At least make sure the card works. Those things are notoriously fickle, like most wives I’ve met.”

Chuckling despite herself, she swiped the card against the reader, grateful to hear the lock disengage in the quiet hallway. “There. Good night.”

Before he could say or do anything else, she slipped into the room and clicked the door firmly back in place. She tiptoed through the suite, not daring to turn on the lights while she looked for any trace someone else was in the room. Her search coming up empty, she reached over and flooded the bedroom with light.

The king-size bed looked heavenly. Giggling, she decided to make the most of this temporary reprieve. She dropped her clothes in a pile and ran to the bathroom, happy to find it as luxurious as the rest of the rooms in the suite. Turning the water all the way to hot, she allowed the steamy spray to wash away the hurt, the hopelessness, and the hysteria.

She stepped out of the shower an hour later, eyes red-rimmed and body weak with fatigue. Not even bothering to dry off, she collapsed in the bed and fell into a sleep plagued with blue eyes and black cars.

—

The sound of the antique telephone ringing penetrated the fog in her brain as the last strands of sleep broke. Startled, Emma glanced down at her nude form and immediately looked beside her to see if she was alone. Her dreams of the previous night didn’t fade quickly, and the vivid image of the Captain and his wonderful stubble made her ache.

Groaning as memory replaced fantasy, she plopped back against the mattress and grabbed one of the nearly two dozen pillows haphazardly strewn across the bed to cover her head in an attempt to drown out the noise.

It wasn’t really her hotel room, so she probably shouldn’t answer it anyway.

Unfortunately, the caller didn’t know she was an imposter and seemed determined to reach the room’s occupant. She picked up the receiver and pulled it under the pillow to join her. In a groggy voice she asked, “What?”

The chirpy voice of a hotel employee responded, “Good morning, Baroness Jones. Your luggage has arrived.”

“From Boston?” That didn’t make any sense. She’d pawned her last remaining possessions less than forty-eight hours ago, but unless she packed a boomerang in the pocket of her favorite jeans, she wasn’t sure what they were doing in Misthaven.

“I’m not sure, madam. The delivery driver only mentioned it was for the baroness. It should be arriving at your room momentarily.”

As if summoned by magic, there was a knock and she hung up the phone while trying to wrap herself in the thick comforter. Dragging the ends of the blanket like a train behind her, she threw open the door and felt her eyes widen at the sight greeting her. Lining the hallway was a parade of hotel employees carrying a few pieces of luggage each.

In mute shock, she moved out of the way and the group started piling the bags in the living room of the suite. When the final trunk was laid in the corner by the wall of windows overlooking the town, she stood staring unblinkingly at the head bellhop.

“Will there be anything else, Baroness?”

“No, I think this is quite enough.”

“Very well.”

The group seemed hesitant to depart, and she did a quick check to make sure her makeshift toga hadn’t slipped. Finding everything was as it should be, reason soaked through her dazed brain and she said, “Oh, the tip!”

“No, madam. Your chauffeur took care of it already. He wanted to know if you’d be needing the car today. It’s beautiful weather out.”

“My chauffeur took care of the tip and wants to know if I need the car…” she echoed back, trying to see if the words made more sense if she was the one saying them. No. No such luck. She was going mad. That was the only explanation. Or maybe the Captain wasn’t all he seemed to be and he had drugged her and this was simply a hallucination. Noticing the flock of bellhops was waiting patiently for her response, she smiled benignly and said, “I wouldn’t be surprised.”

A voice called out from the doorway, “And what about breakfast, Baroness?”

The hotel employees filed out, leaving her and her unexpected visitor alone. Pulling the comforter more tightly around herself, she hissed, “Arthur. It was you.”

“What was me, my dear?”

“The money, the room, the clothes, the chauffeur. Does Baron Jones even exist, or did you make him up?”

“I like to think of him as more of a group effort. You provided the inspiration; I provided the title. Seeing you in all your lost girl glory last night gave me an idea.”

“From the moment you looked at me, I had an idea you had an idea. I’m not interested.”

Chuckling, he tossed his hat and jacket across a nearby chair and sank into the couch. “I’m sure there is a robe or something a little less linen closet in one of these suitcases. I’ll close my eyes while you look if you’d like.”

“I think I’ll stay over here.” Where it’s safe.

“You have nothing to fear from me, dear. I’m here to make a proposal. One that will be mutually beneficial, I hope,” he drawled, picking a piece of fluff off his pants. He continued to avert his eyes, which she found strange since he stopped by to proposition her over breakfast apparently. “This is only the tip of the iceberg. I can guarantee you’ll never have to worry about money again.”

“Still not interested. You know the way out.”

“Come on, Baroness. Why don’t you slip into something more comfortable and hear me out? I promise it’s nothing like what you think.”

“Arthur, when Little Red Riding Hood spots long, gray whiskers, it’s ridiculous to keep insisting you’re the grandmother,” she retorted, moving carefully toward the nearest bag so she didn’t accidentally flash him. Pulling out a shirt at random, she riffled through the case until she found a pair of shorts as well. Scrambling to the bathroom, she called out over her shoulder. “Go huff and puff somewhere else.”

“I guess that means I’m the big bad wolf,” he said with a smile as he moved to trail after her. When she slammed the door in his face, he raised his voice and added, “I’ve certainly been called worse. Tell me, what was your impression of Lance?”

“I think neither of you takes no for an answer very well,” she mumbled as she pulled on the shirt and stared at herself in the mirror. What bizarre alternate universe had she stumbled into, and how in the world was she going to return to reality. Talking to her reflection, she said, “You’re Emma Swan. You’re not a baroness. Killian Jones is not your husband. You are not going to shack up with Lance or Arthur.”

“Nice pep talk, but if I may be so bold as to suggest a different path,” her visitor interrupted from the other side of the door. “You see, my old friend Lancelot and my wife think they are in love.”

“That’s very cozy but not my problem.”

“I’d like to pay you to make it your problem, Emma Swan. Nice name, by the way. Last night was the first time since their affair started that I thought there might be a ray of hope. The whole time Lance was flirting with you, my wife was fighting tears.”

Rolling her eyes, she snapped open the door and was satisfied to see him lose his balance. “Who won?”

“I plan to, and I’d like you to be on my team. I just need you to keep his attention long enough for Guin to come to her senses.”

Moving past him, she picked up her discarded dress from the prior evening and grabbed the laundry bag out of the nearby closet. “Why don’t you punch him and be done with it?”

“He’s the top man at our boxing club. And besides, the last thing I need is to drive her further into his arms by making him a martyr.” He reached over and placed his hand on her arm, stilling her frantic movements. “Please. At least hear me out.”

Meeting his gaze for the first time since he entered the room, she observed, “You really love her, don’t you?”

“Yes. She’s not the only one who made mistakes. I need your help to make this right. And it might work out well for you too, you know. Lance’s family makes a superior income from a very inferior champagne. He’s no baron, but he does have the bank account of one.”

“I think you need a lawyer, not another homewrecker.”

“I’ll never get a divorce. Come on, Emma. We’re having a party at my estate in the Enchanted Forest. Come out this weekend and give it a go. I’ll pay you fifty thousand to show up and another fifty if this harebrained scheme works.”

“I… I’m not sure…”

“Am I upsetting some other plans? Do you have another offer?”

Thinking of black leather jackets and pie, she smiled wistfully. Shaking herself, she tried to focus on the fact that a hundred grand would pay back what Neal had stolen from Granny and leave enough for her to put a down payment on a place in the city. “Yes, I think I do. But fine, I’ll play along through the end of the weekend. Then I’m out regardless of what happens.”

“Fair enough. I’ll let Guin know I ran into you and invited you to join the party,” he said with a grin. If he had a mustache, she was sure he’d be twirling it.

Before they could discuss any other details, there was another knock at the door. With an exasperated expression, Emma asked her companion, “What now?”

Putting his hands up in a placating gesture, Arthur assured her, “Hey, this one isn’t me.”

Yanking open the door, she saw an enormous bouquet of red roses. She took the flowers with both hands as Arthur cocked his eyebrow in silent question and pulled out the card. “‘If I had a single flower for every time I think about you, I could walk forever in my garden. -Lance.’ Huh. I rather resent that. The note to Guin just said, ‘So glad we met.’”

Notes:

For those who were wondering about Arthur’s trap, the Budapest subway is one of the oldest in the world and the line he mentioned was completed in 1896.

The quote on Lancelot’s card is from Claudia Adrienne Grandi.

@teamhook @kmomof4 @jrob64 @stahlop @motherkatereloyshipper @xarandomdreamx @xsajx @klynn-stormz

[riverdale-retread]

Riverdale S5 Ep 11. (The Voicemail Episode) -  5 things I loved/ 3 Things to Consider (potentially, spoilers)

Things I Loved:

1. I loved that Riverdale, this (formerly) teen show, was blatantly making a radical commentary about both religion and male violence, but in this sneaky way with a ‘silly’ looking trippy drugged-out music video.   The statement is this: Religion = Drugs = Righteous Violence of Young Men.   Marx said that religion is the opiate of the masses, and Riverdale answered, Nah, it's more like shrooms. 

And in fact, according to the show, being two sweet girls hanging out dancing and having fun is better than religion and righteous violence.  Further, violence is Archie’s drug.  I mean this is a set of pretty bold statements, people.  I will also add the crazy young man vigilantes of Riverdale making the Batman rope-slide entrance was fabulous, but I also liked that the music made fun of them, like, Y’all think you’re being heroic but this is so dumb.   

2. If you read my retread of Seasons 1 through 4  (the true ending, which was “Graduation”) you’ll know that I love scenes of Jughead Jones waking up from sleep.  He’s so good at it, and I don't know if my abiding interest in this specific thing elevates this to some sort of kink but  I’m ok with that, if it is. (Please tell me in the comments if Watching a Cute Boy Wake Up From Sleep is an actual kink.)  In this episode, Jughead is startled awake by a loud noise from a fevered sleep, and then becomes gradually more alarmed at the noises outside and I loved it. 

3. This is not an anti-man blog here, so I will try to tread carefully, but I mean, I absolutely loved that the women are so much better than the men at everything in this episode. 

Exhibit A:

Penelope’s cult is so much better than Edgar Evernever’s!  And she is being so honest - Penelope always emotionally worshiped her son, like a lot of misogynist mothers of sons do, and now she’s literally worshiping him.  Also a religion that is founded on a deceased person is much sturdier, I feel, than a religion that is like Worship Me (which is Edgar’s religion).  Plus Penelope is echoing what Jughead used to say about Jason - that his death laid bare the sins of Riverdale!   There’s robes in Penelope’s religion, colorful ones, singing and communion and imbibing from a magic goblet. (Can you tell I was raised Catholic? I still love statuary, robes and altars SO much).

Exhibit B:

 Tabitha and Betty are so much better than Jughead at everything, including getting high!  (Jughead is currently just so bad at life he can’t even get high correctly, poor lamb.)  They are better at taking care of their domestic lives and are appalled at how Jughead lives. Tabitha modeling openness and transparency for Betty was terrific:  She asks Betty for help and makes sure to  tell her, though it’s difficult, about that ‘don’t be such a Betty’ comment and the fact that Jughead made a pass at Tabitha, so that she can make her decision to participate with the full set of relevant facts.   Betty’s reaction of wtf?? followed by snorting and then moving right on - I like grown up Betty SO much. She knows it’s not true - they always had fun together, did Bughead, so she’s like, That’s a weird thing to say and then SHRUG.  

Exhibit C:

Even when burly men are in a violent confrontation in this episode, the mastermind for both teams is a woman - Veronica on one side, Darla on the other.  

4. I loved the two voicemails from Jughead.  Yes yes, of course I would because #Jughead Stan but also - hear me out! - because they rang so emotionally true for me, and showed the difference between still-adolescent Jughead and the now-more-adult Jughead. 

First, the one to Tabitha:  These mushrooms make people say & do what they really think, apparently, so Jughead hit on Tabitha because he’s really attracted to her, and his non-defensive, roll-with-punches adult-self apologizing in this abashed but not self-hating way, and the way he is still hopeful that he stands a chance, was lovely.  

The weepy, upset voicemail to Betty was expert fan service for the Jughead Stans, but it was thrilling for everyone else too if  the HUGE amount of chatter about it is anything to go by. (Not all thrills are pleasant).   I think it’s because there was a lot of truth packed into both his voicemail and her reaction (while high, but again, the mushrooms make you tell your truth).  

Truth 1:  It’s important to express yourself when you’re upset.  Otherwise it comes bursting out at the wrong time, like pus from a festering wound, in a way that helps no one and may hurt you the most.  Truth 2:  Having an ex hung up on you is no fun.   Truth 3: Being confronted with an utterance like, I regret THE ENTIRE time I’ve known you, can make you lose perspective, as in, Betty playing that voicemail isn’t a serve on anyone other than herself and Jughead, together, and that’s why the kind Tabitha won’t bring it up again. 

There is SO MUCH discourse about that word “bitch” and a lot of it is very well argued, but I feel no urge to pick a side. What *I* have to say about that is, Jughead using that word in that way with that tone definitively marked an end of Bughead 1.0.  If there’s going to be a Bughead 2.0, it’s going to have to be really different.  

5.   I love the character set ups for Reggie and Fangs. Fangs first - is this guy like the world’s most perfect ex boyfriend or what? Fangs is infinitely kind to Kevin.  And Reggie - he’s abused by his dad but he is also loyal to his dad, working for “a Lodge” which he doesn’t actually seem to like in the little that he says about it, to ‘pay off’ his Dad’s debt.   I like the adult that Reggie has become.  “This isn’t high school.”   His calm “Nah, the bad guys pay better” felt like a breath of fresh bracing cynical air but then the actor also managed to push my But I Can Fix Him buttons so kudos, to you, good sir.  

3 Things to Think About

a)Veronica is told it's the DIVORCE that is making Archie not want sex but please recall that the Riverdale High School is decimated and Archie is in the process of putting his genitals  - oops sorry - THE BUILDING back together.  He doesn't have a libido without the Riverdale High School building. I've been telling you.

b)Tabitha voluntarily enters into an agreement to lie (by omission) to Jughead about the manuscript handover to Jessica and the playing of the voicemail message. She doesn't know this yet but so far a rule of Riverdale is that you must not lie to Jughead or bad things happen. Interested to see if the rule still holds for Adult Jughead.

c) The show is very much doubling down on the fact that they think using other people’s lives as fiction is absolutely unforgivable.  Riverdale absolutely hates drug dealers (which is why the Serpents are alcohol runners, and kicked out drug dealers) and yet even though Jessica is totally a drug dealer that Betty Cooper fake-FBI knows is a drug dealer, AND  SHE NON CONSENSUALLY DRUGGED TWO WOMEN WHO SAID NO ALREADY, but the fact that she didn’t want her life used in a fictional outlet trumps literally everything.